


On My Hands

by loveandwar007



Category: Monster High
Genre: Angst, Dark, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-08 23:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveandwar007/pseuds/loveandwar007
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one ever said a relationship with the descendant of Jekyll and Hyde was going to be easy. Now in a sudden twist of fate, Holt has done the unthinkable, Jackson is stuck taking the fall with him, and Frankie must fight back against the odds if she hopes for any sort of future with them. But how far can her forgiveness and confidence be pushed before she breaks? And is it worth Holt receiving the ultimate punishment?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Frankie Stein didn’t always have the best instincts to tell her when something was wrong. Being a barely two-year-old construct stitched together with industrial strength thread and powered by electricity, getting through the day without misplacing her limbs was hard enough. Luckily though, she had a great group of ghoulfriends to cut her some slack even when the world didn’t, making her unlife just a little bit easier.

Letting a boy into her heart however? That had brought on a whole new level of difficulty, especially since it was technically _two_ boys in the same body who had won her affections. It had only been three months, but so far Frankie felt really fortunate that Jackson Jekyll and Holt Hyde thought she was worth waiting for, even after their rough patch when they first met and the boys were still unaware that they were the same person. They had made a lot of progress since then, that she knew for sure, but there were still moments that left Frankie feeling uneasy about whether Jackson and Holt were truly in sync.

Like when she opened her locker first thing Monday morning and a dozen red roses wrapped in a florist’s expertised hand fell from the top shelf onto the tiled floor. More like a dozen red flags shooting up in Frankie’s brain as she stooped down to pick up the bouquet. Sure enough, the initials _HH_ were scrawled on the tag in haste.

“Aw, how sweet!” came a high-pitched Romanian accent, and Frankie whirled around to see Draculaura eyeing the roses from behind her. “Which one?”

“Holt,” Frankie sighed out, not taking her eyes off the card. Most ghouls would be thrilled to get a bunch of roses from their boyfriend, but in this case…

“Uh oh.” Clawdeen Wolf appeared on Frankie’s other side, leaning her elbow against her locker tiredly as if she’d just rolled out of bed. “What’d he do this time?”

“I don’t know,” Frankie shook her head. “I mean, he had to have done something, right? He doesn't usually give me flowers unless he’s messed up big time.”

“I remember those days.” Frankie craned her neck around Clawdeen to see Operetta swinging her locker shut with a clang. The southern phantom of the opry glanced between Frankie and the roses with an all-knowing glance, “He did the same thing for me the morning after our solo date eons ago. Trust me, sugar, I do _not_ envy you. But I _do_ reckon you should hunt him down and get the details.”

“You know something, don’t you?” Clawdeen eyed the fiery red-headed ghoul suspiciously.

“It ain’t my news to tell, and it ain’t yer business to be stickin’ yer little doggy trackin’ nose into,” Operetta frowned in Clawdeen’s direction, who growled in response.

“When it comes to Frankie, it _is_ our business,” Draculaura cut in with an uncharacteristically sharp tone. “And if there’s trouble in paradise, we’ll be here for her no matter what.”

“No wait, Operetta has a point,” Frankie finally said, holding the roses against her chest. “This is between me and Holt, and I’ve got to talk to him now.” She lifted her gaze tentatively to meet Operetta’s, “How bad is it?”

“That’s for you to find out, sweet pea,” Operetta shook her head, almost sadly, before sauntering down the hall to her first class.

“Ouch!” Frankie cried out in pain, letting the roses fall to the floor again. She hadn’t realized how hard she’d been gripping the stems until she felt the long thorns pierce her fingers.

 

~

**Whaddup JJ?**

_Not talking to you_

**Aw cmon hear me out!**

_You've said enough_

**I told u i didnt mean it**

_It doesn't matter what you meant, the point is it happened_

**Its not that big a deal Jackie boy**

_You don't know that. No one knows yet._

**I'll tell em it was self defense**

_Except it wasn't. It was just you being Hyde again._

**So ur just worried bout how this affects YOU huh?**

_It's not just us. This might affect everyone we care about. Mom, our family, our friends._

**There u go bein overdramatic again**

_Frankie_

**Hey if any1 will understand its Fine Stein. U know her she always looks on the bright side.**

_Then you owe it to her to tell her that there may not BE a bright side._

**Relax JJ Im gonna tell her tomorrow @ school**

_Everything?_

**EV RY THANG**

_Good_

**Already left a lil hint in her locker**

Jackson was still in a sour mood by the time he got the latest text from his other half. The guy could be a real pain in the neck, sure, but it was usually nothing more than an annoying brother would do. He could deal with that, and it was the primary reason that he and Holt had been able to reach a sort of compromise in their existence within each other. He would allow Holt to keep his gigs no matter how late they might go, and in return his rambunctious alter ego would let Jackson get his schoolwork done when he needed to. And then there was splitting up their time with Frankie, which was an entirely different matter that often led to spats between them. It sometimes grew just as tiresome for Jackson as it did for Frankie, there were only so many ways he and Holt could emphasize _“I care about her more than you do!”_ Then she would gently remind him that they were the same person, and somehow that would make Jackson feel a bit better. Not about the fact that he was half blue, loud, unreliable, awful taste in music Holt Hyde, but that there was a beautiful, sweet, loving, headstrong ghoul who accepted them both as one guy. She might have been the only one in the world who did, besides his mom. For the most part, that was all Jackson needed to get him through the day.

But would she still want to be around him after she found out what Holt did over the weekend? Part of the burden of sharing his existence was that if Frankie got angry at Holt for something he did, she often would avoid Jackson as well. The great thing about Frankie though was that she always bounced back into that cheery disposition of hers by the end of the day and was easily forgiving. The half normie wasn’t so sure if she would be this time. This was bad. This had the potential to be very, _very_ bad.

“Hey.” Jackson jumped a foot in the air, his head whipping around to see the childlike inquisitive face of his girlfriend gazing back at him. He managed a smile, not wanting to scare her with a deadly serious expression.

“Hey yourself,” he said back. Taking her hand, he pulled her closer to place a soft kiss on her cheek. She was wearing a new fragrance, peppermint to match the howliday season that was almost upon them. It made him want to just stand there and hold her for a moment, but the roses she was holding that were crushed between them were a sharp reminder that it would have to wait. Dropping her hand reluctantly, he reached up to the top shelf of his open locker and pulled out a pair of headphones he always kept on standby. “Holt has something he needs to tell you.”

“Yeah I, uh, kinda got that impression,” Frankie said with a dry chuckle, holding up the bouquet. “He needs to make it quick though, we’ve got class in ten minutes.”

“Will do,” Jackson nodded before slipping the headphones over his ears. Frankie stepped back, promptly shielding her eyes from the expected flash of green light that transformed Jekyll into Hyde.

“ _Whoa!_ It is way too early for the Holt-ster to be outta bed!” Holt Hyde exclaimed upon his arrival. He stretched his arms over his head dramatically and let out an obnoxiously obvious yawn towards the ceiling, before his head dropped down to see Frankie standing in front of him. “Hey, there’s my number one ghoul!”

“Hey Hol--whaa!” Her greeting was cut off as Holt grabbed her around the waist and swung her so she was pressed against the locker beside his. Quite the contrary to Jackson’s subtle gesture, the fiery hot DJ planted a deep kiss on her full glossed lips. Frankie would never forget the first time he did this, she had sparked so badly at the bolts that every student along the main wing lockers had felt the electrocuting side effects. Now after a few months of getting used to it, she only released one or two tiny sparks as Holt’s kiss left her breathless.

“Mm-mm, is that peppermint?” Holt said slyly, sniffing as he sneaked a kiss or two at her neck.

“Holt, stop stalling,” Frankie said firmly, pushing him back a little so she could hold up the wrapped bouquet. “The roses are beautiful, but they never come with good news. So let’s hear it.”

“Al- _right_ , it was at the gig I had Saturday night,” Holt began, a bit quieter so the students around them wouldn’t overhear. “This one was supposed to be huge, I’m talkin’ double the dough I usually make. It wasn’t fancy, but _man_ was there a ton of people! And the _space_ and the _dance floor_! Good thing I had Heath and Oppy helping me out ‘cause I was gonna need _all_ my equipment to make this a night to remember.”

So Clawdeen was right, Operetta _did_ know what happened because she was there that night. “So what went wrong?”

“Nothin’ at first. The jams were pulsin’, monsters and normies were drinkin’ and dancin’, looked like a ritzy Christmas party or sumthin.’ Would’ve invited you to come along too, but--”

“I know, I had to finish my half of mine and Jackson’s final project for Mad Science,” Frankie finished, glancing up at the clock. Five minutes ‘til the bell. “Then what?”

“The normie who ran the joint, can’t remember his name, was all set to pay us when we were packin’ up to leave. Only he thought I wouldn’t notice that the check looked a little _lacking_ in the digit department.” Holt gritted his teeth, the simmering rage from two nights ago about to resurface just thinking about it, but relaxed when he remembered Frankie was standing right there, a worried expression lining her features. “I thought the amount I was gettin’ was for each of us, not the grand total. So I tracked him down to the parking lot behind the building and asked him ‘what gives?’ Next thing I knew, I had the dude slammed to the pavement yellin’ at him to give us the rest of the money.”

“Holt, _no_ ,” Frankie moaned as if it were exactly as she feared, clapping a hand to her face as she shook her head. “How many times have we gone over this?”

“He cheated me, Frankie, he cheated all three of us!” Holt exclaimed in a loud whisper, still trying to not be overheard. “I couldn’t let him get away with that!”

“Holt, your short temper is going to get you in some serious trouble someday,” Frankie went on. It didn’t sound like when his mom scolded him, or even when Jackson scolded him. It was more anxious, far more desperate, and it made Holt feel way worse than when someone just stood there yelling at him. “Is that all? You just punched him a few times?” Her bicolored eyes bore into his red ones, biting her lip as she waited nervously for his response. And Holt knew he couldn’t do it. Not with the way she was staring at him, expecting an answer that would ease her fears rather than heighten them. Now he knew what Jackson meant, about how much this would affect Frankie. After she praised Holt time and again for how great a guy he could be when he put his mind to it, it would just shatter her if she knew the truth.

“Yeah, I just roughed him up a little,” Holt consented, nodding tightly. “He took off in his fancy car after he paid up the rest. No big deal.”

“At least that’s all,” Frankie breathed out in relief as she reached over and held him by the arms. “But you can’t do this anymore. You need to learn to negotiate peacefully, even with people who cheat you. No more fights, okay?”

“No more fights…” Holt trailed off, the corner of his mouth turning upward in some sort of assurance.

“Good,” Frankie smiled as she leaned forward to peck him on the lips. “Tell Jackson I’ll see him later in Mad Science.” With a cheerful wave, she dashed back down the hall as the bell rang, leaving Holt in the nearly deserted hallway. He was used to lying to people to get himself out of trouble, but doing it to Frankie was different. It made him feel sick to his stomach. The entire debacle was like he’d spilled a glass of red wine all over a pure white tablecloth. Frankie was the tablecloth, and the truth about what happened Saturday night was the wine.

_“Holt, your short temper is going to get you in some serious trouble someday.”_

_Too late, Frankie Fine_ , he thought as he shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his pinstriped pants. _It already has._

 

~

Frankie slid into her seat in Mad Science a few hours later, setting down the binder of work for her final project she’d slaved over the past weekend. Including the Saturday night that Holt had made a real spectacle of himself. She sighed deeply as she recalled what Holt told her, idly playing with the stitching on her wrist. Was she angry? No, not really. She had been at first, but after a minute she realized that if she got mad every single time he screwed up, she’d drive herself crazy. Now she was mostly disappointed, both in Holt for failing to keep it together and in herself for not being able to be there that night. She didn’t know for sure if that would have made a difference in the outcome, if she would have been able to talk him out of it, but she still felt guilty. She was his ghoulfriend now. It was, like, her _job_ to be there for him. Cleo and Draculaura were always there for Deuce and Clawd when they were in trouble or upset or just needed to talk. Frankie resolved that she was going to have to make room in her already hectic schedule to do the same thing. After school and the welcoming committee meeting and Fearleading practice and the avalanche of homework she still needed to complete before the scaremester ended on Friday, Frankie would _somehow_ make time to talk with both Holt and Jackson.

As if on cue, the bespectacled boy came sailing through the door just as the bell rang and crashed into his seat next to Frankie. “Sorry I’m late,” he panted.

“Where were you?” Frankie asked.

“According to Clawd, jamming out to my latest mix in the music room,” Jackson rolled his eyes, flinging his own binder on the table.

“Cuttin’ it a li’le close, eh Jekyll?” came the booming voice of Mr. Hack.

“Yeah...I guess…” Jackson exhaled over and over, taking off his glasses to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“Well since you're top o’ the class, I’ll let it slide this time,” Hack rumbled before he slammed down his ancient crossed ax to indicate class was in session. “Yelps! de Nile! You’re up to present your final project!” Ghoulia Yelps was already setting up her materials on the lab table at the front of the class as Cleo de Nile sauntered down the aisle from the back of the room where she had been cuddling with her boyfriend Deuce Gorgon. Once she’d left, Deuce leaned over to Heath Burns on his other side and they began whispering with their heads close together. Frankie was almost positive Heath was telling Deuce what happened at the gig he’d accompanied Holt to.

“Did Holt tell you?” Jackson whispered out the side of his mouth as Cleo and Ghoulia began their presentation. Frankie looked around quickly to make sure everyone was preoccupied, then nodded.

“I feel awful that you always get caught in the middle of his mistakes,” she whispered back, taking his hand under the table.

“It just makes it harder to communicate with him like you want us to,” Jackson said, returning the grip as he rubbed his thumb over the smooth green skin on the back of her hand. “Usually I can deal with it, and I’ll get over it later. But this--”

“Jackson, I’ve accepted the fact that being aggressive is in his nature, and I can’t get mad at him every time it flares up,” Frankie said softly, voicing the exact thoughts that were in her mind at that moment. “You shouldn’t either. I understand that you two will always have your disagreements, but over time you’ve developed a bond that’s really special. I care about you both too much to watch it fall apart.”

Jackson closed his eyes, squeezing her hand as he swallowed back the hard lump forming in his throat. “I can’t. I can’t forgive him for this one, Frankie.”

“Why not? I already have.”

“How?” he turned to look right at her, his voice heightening to a stage whisper. “Frankie, he put a normie in critical condition in the hospital just because he shorted him a hundred and fifty bucks! There’s nothing worse he--!” He stopped suddenly as he watched Frankie’s face evolve into stunned silence as if she’d been bludgeoned over the head, letting her hand fall limply from his.

“Wait...what are you talking about?”

Jackson blinked. “What have _you_ been talking about?”

“Stein! Jekyll!” The two of them jerked back around to face the front of the classroom. Mr. Hack leaned dangerously over his desk, picking up another unidentifiable sharp object threateningly, “Stop makin’ eyes at each other and pay attention, or I’ll fail you both on your project before you even get to present!” Jackson blushed and Frankie sparked as a few murmurs and giggles rippled through the room. Cleo was far from amused and glared at them from the front table, and Frankie shot her an apologetic glance.

“What did he tell you?” Jackson asked in a livid undertone as Ghoulia resumed moaning through her demonstration. Frankie slid down in her seat a bit to hide behind the tall muscular gargoyle in front of her.

“He said he roughed him up a little until he paid up, then he got in his car and left…” She trailed off as she looked at Jackson out the corner of her eye. “Jackson?” He remained silent. “Jackson, that’s what happened. That’s what Holt told me.”

“Idiot...that complete and utter _idiot_.”

“Jackson, what did you do?!” Frankie couldn’t care less how loud she was now. “I mean wha--what did _he_ do?”

“He didn’t tell you. I should’ve known but--I mean--if anyone, he would’ve been honest with _you_.”

“ _You’re_ not being honest with me!” Frankie reached over and latched her black fingernails onto his shirt sleeve. Jackson hesitated, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. For one wild moment, Frankie thought he was going to kiss her right there in front of Mr. Hack, but realized quickly he was just whispering in her ear.

“He did more than just rough him up. He practically _killed_ him. He’s in really bad shape right now as we speak. And if anything happens to this guy, I don’t have to tell you how serious this’ll get real fast.” Frankie’s hands trembled as she brought them to her mouth. “And it’s not just Holt. If this takes a turn for the worst, then everyone in Salem will know that a normie was slaughtered by a monster.”

“The entire monster community will be in danger,” Frankie mouthed back as quietly as she could. “It’ll be like it was over a century ago.”

“Except now they’ll have a valid reason to hunt you all down, not just wild speculation. And that’s nothing compared to what’ll happen to...me.”

It was too much to take in at once. Frankie’s head was spinning so badly she thought she might be sick, but one surefire fact remained with her apart from every new piece of information Jackson hurled at her. He’d lied to her. Something this serious had transpired and Holt had lied right to her face about it. The same hands Jackson was holding her with now had nearly slaughtered someone two nights ago. It was all just too much.

“Frankie...Frankie, say something.”

“Who is speaking while _I’m_ speaking?!” came Cleo’s commanding tone from the front of the classroom, and all heads turned this way and that to find the source of the disturbance.

“I--I can’t--” Frankie pushed Jackson’s arm away from her shoulder, and he looked pained that she had. All she could focus on was Jackson’s features that he shared with Holt. His face, the feel of his hands, even his eyes, though a different color, were still the same. And she just couldn’t face him right now. Not after what he’d done, and not after he’d lied to her about it. Flinging back her chair, Frankie jumped up from the lab table and dashed out the door, her heels clacking loudly against the tiled floor.

“Oi Stein! You need a hall pass!” bellowed Hack as she breezed past him into the hallway, Cleo and Ghoulia exchanging wide-eyed glances as they watched her leave.

“Frankie, wait!” Jackson called as he took off after her, not caring if his Mad Science grade suffered for it. Looking up and down the hall, he’d lost sight of her, figuring she must have ducked into the ghouls’ bathroom. “It wasn’t me!” he called down the empty hallway, hoping his echoing voice would carry.

But as soon as he said it, he knew it was false. No matter how much he wished it wasn’t so, no matter how disassociated he tried to remain from his other half’s endeavors, no matter what he as Jackson Jekyll tried to do to make up for it, there was nothing on earth that could change the fact that if Holt was guilty, then he was guilty.

He and Holt Hyde were the same person, for better or worse. And the only one who had ever fully understood and loved him for that had just run out on him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

_You are dead_

**What?**

_You lied to Frankie_

**I couldnt tell her JJ u didnt see how she was lookin at me**

_I know it’s hard, she’s so pure-hearted. But she deserved to know the truth no matter how bad it was._

**So i take it U told her**

_She didn’t take it well. At all._

**Aw no did she cry?**

_I don’t know, I haven’t seen her since she ran out of Mad Science this morning._

**Text her?**

_Yeah I should. Even if she won’t talk to me, I need her to keep this whole thing under wraps for now._

**Hey tell her im sorry would ya**

_Sorry?! I don’t think a “sorry” is gonna cut it this time, Holt!_

**I dunno what else 2 say**

_To be honest...I don’t either._

 

~

With a loud click, Frankie unlocked the stall in the ghoul’s bathroom and stepped out. She heard the bell signaling the start of lunch hour and was grateful that Mad Science had ended. There was no way in heck she would’ve been able to go back in there and face Jackson. Not now, and certainly not any time soon. More than anything she wanted to go home sick, but that wasn’t an option. Her father would insist on doing a full examination if she said she was ill, and if he found nothing wrong he’d send her right back to school. _What about feeling heartsick, Dad?_

Turning the sink on high, she squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself not to lose it again as she stood hunched over it. Her stomach churned as tears tried to push their way past her closed eyelids. How was she going to fix _this_ one? The short answer was she couldn’t. The damage had already been done, and all they could do now was wait for the outcome. She hated waiting, and she hated not being able to do anything. Frankie had always been proactive, if one of her friends was in trouble she was there to help. Like she had been for Holt when he was framed for pranking the normies at their high school last Halloween. This time, it was different. This time he had done something unforgivable, whether intended or not. And for the first time in her unlife, Frankie wished she didn’t care so much. It was too painful.

Her phone buzzed against her hip and she pulled it out from her belt.

Jackson.

_You have every right to be angry. Take your time, even if it’s forever. But please keep this secret._

Frankie stared at the screen for a moment, feeling more helpless than ever. A tear rolled down her cheek as she replied back: _I promise._ She couldn’t say or do anything else.

Finally shutting off the sink and exiting the bathroom, she kept her head bowed as she made her way to the Creepateria. Jackson was sitting quietly with Deuce, picking at his food forlornly, and Frankie walked right past him to her usual table she sat at with the ghouls. Fortunately the only one there was Abbey Bominable, who was also picking at her food. Probably not because she was upset, but because she wasn’t sure if it was edible, which Frankie didn’t blame her for thinking.

“Hey,” she said as she sat beside Abbey, her voice hoarse from lack of use.

“Frankie!” Abbey exclaimed, whirling to face her in her seat. “You are here.”

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Looking for you,” Abbey replied simply, shoving her tray to the side in disgust. “Cleo be saying how you leave Mad Science class in much haste. I tell her you here.”

“No, please don’t text her!” Frankie said quickly, covering Abbey’s iCoffin screen with her hand. “I don’t want all of them here bombarding me with questions. I...don’t even think I could answer them.”

“Frankie,” Abbey said gently, setting her phone back down on the table. “Your eyes have the sad water in them. Please to tell.”

“I wish I could,” Frankie said miserably, trying to blink back her tears. Then her gaze found Jackson sitting at his table again and they sprang up afresh.

“I be keeping same secret as you,” Abbey revealed with a sigh, and Frankie’s head snapped back around in surprise. “Heath tell me everything. He be knowing I not tell other ghouls. Is...very sorrowful situation. Must especially be for you.”

“I don’t know what to do, Abbey,” Frankie shook her head, her fists clenched in her lap. “I feel like I should be doing something, but all I can concentrate on is how angry I am at Holt. Does that make me horrible? Or selfish?”

“Hey Abbey, turns out Ms. Kindergrubber had some yak milk in her classroom,” Heath said as he came into view, holding up a small milk carton. He nearly dropped it when he saw the new arrival at their table, “Frankie!”

“Heath!” Frankie suddenly jolted back into action as if a bolt of lightning had shot through her system. “You were there that night, weren’t you?”

“ _Shh_ , not so loud,” Heath put a finger to his lips, sliding onto the bench and glancing around quickly before leaning in closer to talk. "Yeah, I saw the whole thing.”

“So that normie, is he really in an awful state?” Frankie’s heart sank as Heath’s face grew more and more serious.

“He looked pretty bad. But hey, don’t worry. It’s been two days and nothing’s happened yet. No news is good news, right?

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Frankie responded. That actually made her feel a bit better, the best she’d felt in the past hour.

“You have disagreement with Jackson?” Abbey asked, glancing back at where the half normie sat with Deuce.

“No. I mean, yes--I mean--not really,” Frankie peered down at her clasped hands. “Holt lied to me about what happened earlier this morning, and then Jackson told me the truth later in class. That’s why I ran out, I...I couldn’t help it. It’s so hard to look at him when I know that Holt is in there and that he caused someone to get seriously hurt. It even scares me when he touches me, because I know he used those same hands to beat up that guy. I can’t even be around him.” Tears dripped into her lap, splashing onto her hands, “I’m the worst ghoulfriend _ever_.”

“You are frightened Frankie, is not unnatural,” Abbey soothed, rubbing her back.

“But usually there’s something I can do to make things right again. Now I’m drawing a blank,” Frankie said sadly, wiping her eyes dry.

“Is one thing you can do,” Abbey said, her icy hand gripping Frankie’s shoulder firmly. “Stay beside him. Being like the light in his darkness. Is more valuable to him than you may be thinking.”

“Look, my cousin really likes you,” Heath said quietly, a small smile on his face. “Maybe even loves you. And he’s gonna need all the support he can get right now from the people closest to him. That includes you now.”

“But I--I can’t even--” Her inability to form complete sentences was really starting to irk Frankie, but Abbey continued to take pity on her.

“Will probably be as good for you as it being for him,” the yeti girl showed off her tusks as she grinned. Frankie was about to crack a slight smile back when a high-pitched voice rang out through the Creepateria.

_“There she is!”_ Draculaura sprinted towards the table from the lunch line, followed by Clawdeen, Lagoona, Cleo and Ghoulia all carrying trays.

“Frankie, you had us worried, ghoul!” Clawdeen exclaimed, sliding into the seat across from Frankie.

“You look awful, mate,” Lagoona added, studying Frankie’s tired and red-rimmed eyes. “Tell us what happened.”

“How could you just run out during _my_ presentation?!” Cleo said in an outraged tone. Ghoulia let out an annoyed moan at that under her breath, but didn’t elaborate.

“I’m sorry I worried you all, I really am,” Frankie looked around at each of them shamefully. “But the point is I’m better now, Abbey and Heath cheered me up.”

“Are you sure?” Clawdeen peered at her through narrowed eyes.

“Positive,” Frankie emphasized with a smile that she hoped reached her eyes. “I was...making a big deal out of nothing.” Now she was lying to the ghouls. This didn’t make her any better than Holt in the end. But Jackson had asked her not to tell anyone outside the very small circle of people who knew already.

“Well at least that’s all taken care of,” Cleo said dismissively, rewrapping the gold bandages on her right arm. “I suppose Deuce must be making a big deal out of nothing as well, he’s been acting awfully strange today like you. But anyway, about the routine I’m thinking of for the next Casketball game, Ghoulia has a blueprint all set--”

“Cleo, I won’t be at Fearleading practice today,” Frankie blurted out before she could stop herself. The ghouls looked back at her concernedly while Abbey busied herself by shoveling forkfuls of food into her mouth, Heath whistling to himself as he avoided all their gazes.

“So I take it you won’t be at the welcoming committee meeting either?” Lagoona asked, raising an eyebrow at Frankie who shook her head apologetically.

“So where will you be?” Draculaura asked.

“I--I’m really behind on schoolwork and--”

“And a really terrible liar,” Clawdeen deadpanned, stabbing her fork into the rare steak on her tray. “Frankie, what’s going on?”

“I can’t tell you,” Frankie finally confessed. Now Abbey was positively chugging the carton of yak’s milk Heath had brought her.

“If you’re not going to be at Fearleading, you better have a good reason for it,” Cleo snapped, folding her arms across her chest as she lowered her voice dangerously. “I demand to know what it is.”

“I made a promise not to tell,” Frankie said tentatively, revealing as much as she could without breaking her word to Jackson.

“Did somethin' bad happen?” Lagoona asked in a gentle motherly tone.

“Does this have anything to do with Holt and the reason he sent you roses?” Draculaura piped up suddenly as if she’d just remembered about that morning that now felt like years ago. Frankie had to fight with every fiber of her being not to spark at the bolts, which would have been a dead giveaway.

“Frankie, whatever it is, you can tell us,” Lagoona reached for Frankie’s hand. “We’ll keep it secret, I swear.” For the most fleeting of moments, Frankie nearly broke down and told them everything. Glancing briefly over Clawdeen’s shoulder, she saw Heath’s eyes widen at her, shaking his head slightly as if to say _“Don’t you dare.”_

“I’m sorry, but this time I can’t,” Frankie said in finality, pulling her hand back from Lagoona’s. For a while no one made a sound, except for Abbey loudly slurping up the last dregs of her milk.

“Well I hope you know you’re back on probation because of this, Frankie!” Cleo huffed angrily before she got up from the table and stormed from the Creepateria, Ghoulia following behind her.

“If Frankie doesn’t want us to know, then we should respect that,” Draculaura said slowly, though she sounded incredibly hurt.

“I agree,” Lagoona nodded, lowering her eyes so she hid the sadness in them.

“Whatever,” Clawdeen growled, not taking her narrowed golden eyes off of Frankie. Swinging her legs off the bench, she stalked off after Cleo and Ghoulia without another word.

“I’m going to find Clawd,” Draculaura said sadly, avoiding Frankie’s eyes as she got up to leave.

“I...have a swim team meetup,” Lagoona added, leaving Frankie alone with Heath and Abbey again.

“Whew! For a second there I thought you were totally gonna spill the beans,” Heath said once the other ghouls were out of earshot.

“I wanted to, so badly,” Frankie sniffled. “Now they’re all mad at me.” The bell rang at last, ending the longest lunch hour of Frankie’s unlife. It didn’t matter though, the recent developments in this giant mess hadn’t made her hungry in the slightest.

 

~

“Frankie, I know how difficult this must be for you to fully comprehend,” Viveka Stein said later that afternoon when her daughter got home from school. The number of people who knew about what Holt did over the weekend kept right on climbing, now including the inner circle of monster parents. Frankie figured as much when she walked in the door and heard her parents conversing in German, which they only did when they were very emotional or wanted to discuss something they didn’t want their daughter to overhear. It must have been a mixture of both this time because when Frankie entered the room, they looked around quickly at her with wide eyes. But one look at her face told them that she already knew, and then the hugs and kisses started. Frankie still felt too frozen in shock to exhibit any sort of emotion and just let her parents do most of the talking. Now little by little, she was starting to find her voice again.

“Do you?” she asked quietly, lifting her eyes to meet her mother’s as she sat at the kitchen table next to her and across from her father.

“Yes,” Viveka said, “I was like you once, dear. Recently created, thrust into a strange and cruel world, experiencing things for the first time, feeling complex multiple emotions I had never felt before. Your father was the first thing I saw and, quite frankly, I was terrified.”

“Well I did look a lot worse then than I do now,” Viktor let out a chuckle before his face grew serious again. “But the point is to have something this traumatizing happen in your still very young unlife must be...overwhelming.”

“ _But_ ,” his wife cut in pointedly, “there’s no sense in constantly worrying. We must always be on alert, yes, but unlife does go on.” Frankie bit her lip as she lowered her eyes to the table top. How could she just go on with her unlife when Jackson and Holt were such a huge part of it?

“Do you think Draculaura, Clawdeen and the other ghouls will find out from their parents?” Frankie asked, trying to switch gears in the conversation a bit.

“I would expect not, unless there are any new developments not in our favor,” Viktor replied in a businesslike tone. “The Count was insistent that we let as little in our community know as possible for now.” Draculaura’s father was sort of the assumed leader, any and all news in the monster world was reported directly to him. “The Headmistress knows of course, and Mrs. Gorgon I believe has told Deuce, he and Jackson are rather close. I can only hope word doesn’t get out to that loose-lipped Vondergeist girl.”

“Aside from Heath and Operetta, only Deuce, Abbey and I know,” Frankie said in a much stronger tone. She understood her dad’s concern, it would mean absolute chaos if Spectra got wind of this. “But I think the others are aware that there’s at least _something_ going on.” Viveka’s phone suddenly vibrated against the kitchen counter and she rose to answer it.

“Hello?” Her eyes grew soft and sad as she pressed a hand to her heart, “Oh Sydney…” Frankie felt a sharp pang in her heart as Viveka left the room to talk privately with Jackson’s mother. If this was tearing _her_ apart inside, she could only imagine what this ordeal was doing to Mrs. Jekyll.

“I’m actually surprised that you’re here, Frankie,” Viktor broke the stillness after his wife had gone. “When you chose not to stay for your after school curriculum, I assumed you would be over at Jackson’s.”

“Dad?” Frankie asked, getting up to sit in the chair closest to him. “What would you do if Mom did what Holt did?” She hadn’t meant for it to sound so blunt, but there was no other way she was going to get the answers she needed to put her restless, spinning mind at ease.

“Attacked a normie, you mean?” Viktor clarified, a bit taken aback. “Well, your mother and I have been known in the past for our bouts of…irrational behavior, exaggerated or not. But since the night I created her, I have always remained on her side. She is my perfect mate and she always will be.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question,” Frankie mumbled.

“What I’m trying to say is that there isn’t anything your mother could do that would stop me from loving her,” her father said, holding Frankie’s hands in his. “She is everything to me. We have been through so much together in the past couple of centuries that I’m sure you must know that we didn’t always have a blissful unlife together. We had rough patches, we’ve had countless fights, there was even a period when we became so frustrated trying to create you that we spent a few months apart from each other. Your mother went back to Germany and I remained here continuing my work in the labs. And although my head was constantly in my science, my heart was constantly broken. I needed your mother here with me, and it took making the ultimate sacrifice to show me that: Letting her go. I would never wish those months I spent apart from the one I loved most upon my worst enemy...let alone my own daughter.”

“What are you saying, Dad?” Frankie asked, her voice quivering.

“I’m saying what are you doing here when you should be with Jackson?” Viktor cupped his large hand around her soft cheek. “When any moment now we could get word that he’s been hauled away to a monster prison for manslaughter? Frankie, you know I’ve never been a big fan of Holt, but you care about both of them and that’s what matters most to me. What’s important is not what Holt did then, but who Jackson needs the most _now_.” He looked up to see that Viveka had reentered the room, coming up behind his chair. With tears in her eyes, she leaned down and kissed him deeply on the lips, sparks flying from both of their neck bolts.

“You’re right,” Frankie breathed as they broke apart. “You’re so _right_ , Dad. Sure I’m scared, but Jackson’s even more scared than I am! He could be gone right now and the last thing I ever said to him was...what am I still _doing_ here?!”

“Drive carefully, it’s supposed to snow,” Viveka smiled, handing Frankie her winter coat.

“I’ll be back later tonight,” Frankie promised, kissing both of her parents on their cheeks as she threw her jacket on and rushed out to the driveway. The evening sky had set in early, leaving a biting winter chill in the air, but Frankie’s now rapidly buzzing electrical flow stretching to the tips of her limbs was enough to keep her warm as she pulled out and drove on down the road to Jackson’s house.

 

~

“It’s been getting darker earlier, hasn’t it?” Jackson raised his eyebrows at his mom as he continued to dry the salad bowl in his hands. If this was her idea of small talk, he was now considering getting her some of those conversation starter flashcards for Christmas.

“I guess so,” he shrugged, putting the bowl away in the cupboard and flipping the towel over to the drier side. “Next week it’s officially winter and all.”

“Finish your shopping yet?” Sydney Jekyll prodded as she spooned the rest of the macaroni and cheese, Jackson’s favorite, into the tupperware container.

“Almost,” Jackson muttered. “Still need to get something for Frankie.”

“Aw, having trouble finding the ‘perfect’ gift?”

“Mom, what’s the deal with all the questions?” Jackson finally blurted out, setting the glass he was drying down on the counter unnecessarily hard. The smile melted from his mother’s face faster than a snowflake in July, and he instantly felt bad.

“I’m just trying to diffuse the tension, honey,” Sydney said with a deep sigh, throwing the now empty pot into the sink. “Trying to get our minds off of it for _one_ minute.”

Jackson swallowed hard, setting the towel back down on the counter. “I know, you’re just...not doing a very good job at it.”

“No, I’m not.” Setting the last glass inside the cupboard, he turned to see his mom pluck a tissue from the Kleenex box again. Removing her glasses, she pressed it to her eyes and breathed hard as if trying to hold back a myriad of emotions. She’d been on and off like this all day and it killed Jackson every time. Ever since he was young, he’d always hated disappointing his parents even if it was something small. Now after all of that worrying, he had actually done the most disappointing thing a child could ever do to their parents. He went over and rested his hand on her shoulder, the only thing he could really do to comfort her. As she reciprocated with a kiss on his cheek, there was a loud knock at the door.

“Who’s that?” Jackson asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“I hope it’s not the cops,” Sydney’s voice trembled as she dabbed at her eyes. “Stay in here, I’ll get the door.” Jackson backed up against the counter gripping the edges nervously. If he was about to receive news that the normie had perished, that was it. He was off to wherever the normies used to take monsters to deal with them back in the day, and he would never see anyone he cared about again. Not his mom or his friends or the ghoul who hadn’t returned the fifteen text messages he’d left her. At this dire hour, he would have given anything to see her one more time…

“Oh Frankie, it’s just you!” Sydney exhaled in relief once the door swung open, and Jackson practically fell over in a faint. She was _here_. He tore from the kitchen and stood in the doorway facing the front hall, watching her unwrap the scarf from around her head, her long silky black and white hair sparkling with dewed snowflakes, her wide blue and green eyes filled with concern. What had he done to deserve a creature so beautiful? Right now, nothing, which left him puzzled as to what she was doing here.

“Is Jackson home?” Frankie asked Sydney in a voice hushed from breathing in the bitterly cold air outside. “I mean just...all of this, I...I don’t know what to say.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to say anything,” Sydney said gently, pulling her into a hug. “We’re just glad to see you here.” Jackson’s heart tugged a bit as he watched them embrace, the mere thought of the turmoil he was putting the two most important women in his life through unbearable. As he stepped into the front hall, they broke apart to see him standing there.

“Hi,” he said simply, taking Frankie’s coat as she removed it and setting it on a chair. “Did you text me you were coming?” He figured he probably just hadn’t received it, until she shook her head.

“Can we talk someplace privately?” Frankie whispered as she moved closer to him, and he nodded.

“Mom, Frankie and I will be in my room,” Jackson said over his shoulder as he took Frankie’s hand and guided her through the kitchen into the back hallway where his and Holt’s room resided. “Okay,” he inhaled deeply as they entered the room, shutting the door behind him. “Whatever it is you have to say, or yell or _throw_ at me, I’m ready to take it.”

“I’m just glad it’s you,” Frankie said, gripping the bedpost until her knuckles were a very pale mint green. “If it were Holt I--I probably would’ve run right back out the door. My _ghoul_ , I am so stupid.”

“No Frankie, you’re not,” Jackson exhaled slowly, relieved that this didn’t sound like it was leading into a breakup speech. “If you feel--”

“Just let me say this,” Frankie cut him off, her teeth nervously scraping the lipstick on her bottom lip. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry for the way I acted earlier today, Jackson. You didn’t deserve that, you don’t deserve any of this.”

“Yeah I do,” Jackson said quickly before she could go on. “Holt and I are the same guy, Frankie, like you’ve always said. I need to accept responsibility for my own actions...even when I don’t remember them.”

“That’s not fair to you,” Frankie’s voice broke as her boyfriend moved away from the door closer to her.

“Nothing about the Jekyll and Hyde thing is fair,” Jackson said grimly. “It just is what it is. Just like my great-grandfather had to take responsibility for his darker half, I do too. My only regret is putting you through so much grief.” He reached up and let his finger stroke her chin before bringing his hand to rest on her cheek. “If I were you, I would’ve run out the door anyway.”

“I’m not running anymore,” Frankie shook her head. “Running was what I did this morning, and it was foolish and awful of me.”

“Frankie--”

“From now on, I’m in this with you,” Frankie replied insistently, holding his wrist nestled near her face. “Until this whole thing ends, whatever end that is, I’m not leaving your side. I can’t be worrying about myself at a time like this because you’re my boyfriend and I love you and it’s more important that you have my support than--”

“Say that again.” Jackson’s hands moved swiftly to capture her around the waist and Frankie gasped lightly.

“It’s more important that you have my support?”

He shook his head, “Before that.”

“You’re my boyfriend and I...I love you.”

Jackson’s eyes lit up as the first feeling of overwhelming happiness he’d felt in days warmed his chest. “Really? You mean that?”

Frankie stood there with her mouth hanging open, oblivious to the sparks flying from her bolts. It had just slipped out, honestly it had, but a statement like that couldn’t just manifest itself from nothing. She’d thought about how much she loved him many times over the past few months with every sweet little gesture, every kind word that made her feel beautiful and special in his eyes. But never before had she actually spoken the words out loud until now. Which was why, without a doubt in her mind, she was able to respond with a sincere “Yes.”

As if something had snapped inside of Jackson, he wrapped the full length of his arms around her and held her tight, his lips crashing against hers once she’d confirmed the words he always thought would scare her off or warrant a laugh if he ever said them. His mouth worked with hers passionately for several long moments he wanted to last forever, not caring that his wool hoodie and her sparking neck bolts were a terrible combination. He was willing to endure it all if it meant Frankie reciprocated his affections fully.

“I love you, too,” he said with a wide smile once they were forced to come up for air. “So much, but I was always too nervous to tell you.”

“I’ll tell you more often if it means you’ll kiss me like that again,” Frankie panted in exhilaration. In those select moments that they just stood there, everything was wiped from their minds except the fact that they were together and they loved each other. It reminded Jackson of those scenes in movies where the couple is literally transported to their own little world where the fog machine is on full blast, the costumes are flowing and overblown and the occasional musical number kicks into gear. But they were both too stunned to speak, let alone sing.

The singing Jackson decided to leave to the Christmas carolers they suddenly heard outside, the wind blowing their voices in the direction of his cracked open bedroom window. Frankie’s head whipped around in alarm to see the small group of monsters walking merrily down the sidewalk, bundled up tight and bringing unlife to the stock howliday tunes enthusiastically.

“No wait,” Frankie broke away from Jackson and tripped over a pair of sneakers on the floor as she bounded over to the window. “You can’t hear music.”

“Frankie that won’t--”

“You _can’t_ hear music!” Frankie shouted as she grabbed the window frame and slammed it shut. Jackson stared at her, thrown off for a moment by her sudden desperation. Then it dawned on him. She couldn’t face Holt. She couldn’t face him any more that his own mother could right now, which left Jackson to take any and all precautions to keep himself from transforming.

“Hey,” he said softly, taking her by the arm and pulling her away from the window. “Carol singing won’t trigger it. It’s gotta be at least 90 decibels, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah sorry, I...that was dumb." Frankie rubbed her eyes as if tiredly, but it was more like a mental smack to the head.

“Frankie, this whole thing,” Jackson brought them both slamming back down to earth, and the matter at hand. "It goes both ways. Your feelings are just as important as mine. If you're scared or angry about these circumstances, you’re allowed to show it. I won’t blame you and neither will anyone else. And if they do, they’ll have to deal with me.” Frankie moved her hand from her eyes and gazed back up at him, letting his words wash over her like a wave of relief. Removing his hand from her arm, she dazedly sat down on his bed and stared at the floor silently for a minute. As he sat down beside her, her tear-filled eyes found his, and his heart tore down the middle as he watched them overflow down her cheeks.

“This is really bad, isn’t it?” Frankie cried despairingly. Jackson didn’t answer but took her in his arms once again and let her sob into his shoulder. The correct response of course was yes, this was disastrous. Yes, he might receive the monster death penalty if that guy died in the hospital. But he wasn’t going to tell her that as she sat here at her lowest point. He was just going to hold her while she let it all out, kiss her hair and wipe away her tears so she'd put on that brave face of hers that he always admired. Because if she didn’t, then there really was nothing left for him to hang onto for hope.

Luckily for Jackson, the more Frankie talked and cried and let the initial shock and anger melt away, the more optimistic and determined she became. Within an hour she was acting like her old self again, lying next to Jackson on his bed while they rehashed the details and what they could infer from them.

“So if he’s okay then what’s the worst he can do, sue?” Frankie asked, twirling a strand of black and white hair between her fingers as she propped her head facing Jackson up on her elbow.

“I’ll have to plead guilty, then take whatever punishment the court rules,” Jackson explained. “Assuming I get a fair trial.”

“Of course you’ll get a trial,” Frankie said in a slightly outraged tone, “Monsters have democratic rights just like anyone else. My money’s on community service.”

“How lenient of you,” Jackson grinned playfully, brushing his thumb over the stitched scar on her right cheek, which was still wet from her tears. “At least I know someone will be.”

“Jackson, I hope you haven’t been moping all day because of me,” Frankie sighed as she brought her hand up to his face as well.

“No, not all day,” he said, brightening up a bit. “Deuce came over right after school and we played racing games for a few hours. We talked a little about what happened, he tried to assure me it’ll all work out for the best, but mostly he was trying to get my mind off of it. Like my mom is, only she’s not as successful. She tries to hide it but I can tell she’s crying at random times. It’s hard when it’s her alone, not being able to get ahold of my dad and all.” Frankie nodded sadly, remembering his parents’ trial separation and how difficult that already was on top of this. “If anything happens to me, then she really _will_ be alone.”

“It’ll be okay,” Frankie said, leaning forward to kiss his forehead as he lowered his eyes to wipe his nose on the back of his hand. “I’ll take care of your mom if something happens. I mean, not that she can’t take care of herself, she does have a Hyde personality and all, but I’ll...you know, look out for her for you, and my mom will too. See? She’ll never be alone.”

Jackson smiled through his misty bright eyes as he closed in to kiss her again. “You are seriously the most amazing ghoul in the world.”

“You’re pretty voltage yourself,” Frankie said softly, snaking her arms around him in a loving embrace. Jackson wasn’t exactly sure how long they lay with each other like that, but he did open his eyes in time to see his digital clock change to 9:30.

“You should probably get going,” Jackson said getting up off the bed as Frankie sat up to finger comb her long tresses neatly so Mrs. J wouldn’t see her messy hair and freak out. They _had_ been in there for a long time.

“It’s going to be hard to keep all of this from the ghouls for very long,” Frankie said as he walked her to the front door. “I tell them everything.”

“It was Dracula’s orders,” Sydney said as she came to meet them in the hallway, with no inkling that she was mad at them for spending so much alone time in Jackson’s bedroom. Maybe Jackson should’ve had Holt get him in trouble more often if it meant more special treatment from his mom. “As little of us need to know as possible. Even he and Clawrk Wolf won’t tell Draculaura and Clawdeen.”

“I understand,” Frankie nodded as she pulled her coat and scarf back on. Still, it hurt to have them giving her the cold shoulder because she was keeping something from them. But she brushed it off as she gave Jackson and his mother the most courageous smile she could muster. “Maybe in a few days, there won’t be anything to tell them at all.”

“We can only hope,” Sydney smiled slightly back as Jackson kissed Frankie goodbye before she walked out to the driveway. With his mom and Frankie beside him, and the support of his friends who knew of the debacle, Jackson felt like he could tackle anything the world threw at him at that moment.

 

~

The next couple of days were thankfully rather uneventful given the current situation. Heath and Operetta were starting to loosen up again since the weekend, a fact Abbey made clear when she confirmed Heath and Manny Taur were doing “how you say, the ‘dumb boy’ stuff.” She, Deuce and Frankie still hadn’t breathed a word to anyone about Jackson and Holt’s potential conviction. But by Thursday, the old routine seemed to have fallen so solidly back into place that the ghouls never even thought to question Frankie again about her episode from the other day. Jackson and Frankie were able to put the final touches on their Mad Science project that afternoon, all set to present the next day, and with plenty of time to spare had a quiet pizza and movie night together. She was still on eggshells about the possibility of Holt surfacing, having not figured out how she was going to confront the other half of her boyfriend about what he’d done, but Jackson seemed to be punishing him in his own way by not letting him out. Right now that was perfectly fine with Frankie, but she knew someday they were going to have to deal with it head on whether they were ready or not.

She just didn’t realize that day was going to come so soon. At around four in the morning on Friday, Frankie felt herself being shaken awake by her mother. Waking from her deep charging stage, she opened her eyes to see her father lighting the lamps in the lab before catching the time on her digital clock out the corner of her eye.

“Frankie? Frankie, wake up darling.”

“Wha...Mom, it’s way too early…”

“This can’t wait,” Viktor said gruffly, snuffing out the match used to light the ancient lamps along the walls, creating a softer glow than if he had just flipped on the fluorescents overhead. He needed his daughter to wake up quickly, but not shock her awake.

“What’s wrong?” Frankie sat up in bed, dread settling into the pit of her stomach.

“There’s no easy way to tell you this,” Viveka’s voice trembled as she unhooked Frankie’s neck bolts from her generator. “But that normie...the one Holt put in the hospital…”

“What?” Frankie clutched the blankets to her chest as she slowly got her bearings and recalled the whole of what happened last Saturday. Her mother pressed a hand to her mouth unable to go on, and her father stepped in to finally drop the other shoe.

“He died about an hour ago, Frankie.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Frankie slipped and slid up the front sidewalk once her parents pulled up in front of Jackson’s house and she dashed out of the backseat of the car. It was a freezing pre-sunrise and the slush from the day before had all frozen, but Frankie didn’t care that she had fallen three times to get to the door. All she knew was she _had_ to.

“Jackson!” she yelled through the front window, banging on the door. “Jackson it’s me, open the door!” It flung open just as her parents came up behind her.

“Viveka!” Sydney exclaimed, standing there in her winter flannels as she and Frankie’s mother embraced, messy tears secreting from them both. Frankie tore past them and sprinted into the front hall, where he appeared in his flannel pants and T-shirt he wore to bed, his eyes red-rimmed and wet behind his glasses. Flinging herself at him, he almost fell backwards as he caught her tall lithe frame, her uncontrollable shuddering having nothing to do with the cold.

“You came.” Jackson's voice was so muffled in her shoulder and hair that she almost missed it. “I didn’t think you’d make it. They’ll be here soon to--”

“Stop it, stop talking like that,” Frankie clutched him harder, her salty wet face brushing against his as she kissed the side of his head. “You’re not going anywhere, I won’t let them.”

“I love you, Frankie--”

“Stop acting like we’re saying goodbye!” Frankie cried out, her speech hitched with desperate hysterical sobs. Even _she_ didn’t believe what she was saying, but she couldn’t bear seeing Jackson crying as hard as she was. “I won’t let them take you!”

“We don’t have any choice,” Viktor’s deep voice boomed through the hall as he approached the couple, intertwined so tightly it would take a pickax to pry them apart. “We must abide by the normies’ laws or they’ll arrest us all.”

“I don’t care, I’ll go to jail too,” Frankie declared.

“No you won’t!” Viveka and Jackson shouted at the same time.

“Frankie, listen to yourself!” Viktor roared at her.

“Your dad’s right,” Jackson said in a cracked voice, “I’m ready to turn myself in, I always have been in case this got worse. And it _got worse._ That's it, it's over now."

“Frankie, I would take my son’s place in a heartbeat if I could,” Sydney added, her voice quivering from her own tears. “But even I can’t protect him from this.”

“I know, Holt needs to be punished, but _not_ in the way they’re going to,” Frankie emphasized, wiping her eyes on Jackson’s shoulder. “Who knows what he’ll be sentenced to.” Her dead heart clenched in her chest as they heard a loud knock at the door.

“Police! Open up!”

“Oh my baby,” Sydney whimpered, stroking and kissing Jackson’s hair as she took advantage of their precious moments left. Jackson embraced his mother tightly, feeling like a five-year-old waking up from a nightmare, before she broke away to answer the door.

“You’ll be okay,” Frankie sniffled as Jackson planted light kisses all over her face like he wanted to take in every last inch of her. “It won’t be as bad as you think, I promise.”

“You’re lying,” was all Jackson breathed out before sealing her lips with a deeply passionate kiss. They pushed themselves apart as they heard footsteps approaching from the open front door.

 _“I love you, too,”_ Frankie was able to mouth before the police appeared before them. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the sheriff pushing his way to the front of the group of men. The same sheriff who had tried to condemn Holt last Halloween.

“We meet again, little missy,” he nodded at Frankie, an enraged glare in his eye.

“Don’t do this,” Frankie pleaded, but two of the police had already forced her away from Jackson.

“Sorry sweetie, but I got proof this time,” the sheriff announced, whipping out his metal cuffs and slapping them on Jackson’s wrists as he continued to speak. He didn’t sound the least bit remorseful, he almost sounded...satisfied. “Wow, you _really_ had me going for awhile with that little speech of yours last year. ‘Monsters and normies aren’t that different, we should all just get along.’ How long did it take you to rehearse that spiel?”

“Would you just leave her alone?” Jackson said through gritted teeth over his shoulder at him.

“You don’t talk unless spoken to, got it?!” the sheriff yelled in Jackson’s face.

"Aren't you gonna read me my rights?" Jackson asked smartly.

"What rights, _monster?_ " the sheriff replied scathingly, the half normie wincing as he hung his head.

“It’s the truth!” Frankie insisted, swallowing the tears welling up in her throat again. “I wasn’t making it up!”

“I got another pair of cuffs here if you don’t zip _your_ lip,” the sheriff rounded on Frankie again. “You’re not gonna be able to talk his way out of this one. And so you don’t get any bright ideas, I’ll make sure his punishment isn’t _public_ this time.” Cornered on all sides, Frankie shut her trembling lips and lowered her eyes away from him. She looked up only as Jackson passed her while being shoved towards the door, holding his gaze for as long as she could until he was out of sight. She could hear Sydney shouting and begging from the doorway, but Frankie couldn’t move. Feeling her legs give out under her, she backed herself against the wall and slid all the way down, drawing her knees to her chest as she buried her face. As cold and cruel as the sheriff was, he was totally right. She couldn’t talk Jackson and Holt's way out of this one. Because this time he was guilty, and for more than just a couple of harmless pranks. There was absolutely _nothing_ she could do for him.

She felt her body release all of its tense restraint as her anguish vocally made itself known, sitting curled up on the floor of Jackson’s front room for who knew how long. Feeling her parents holding her on either side, Frankie barely registered their presence as she fell into an unfamiliar stage of heavy emotion she thought she remembered being referred to as “beyond consolation.”

 

~

There wasn’t a soul at Monster High, living or dead, who didn’t know what had happened. Despite her parents’ urging that she stay home from school on her last day before the howliday break, Frankie insisted that she needed to be around her classmates or she’d lose her mind. So she walked through the eerily hushed hallways later that morning with her head held high, completely aware that people were whispering behind her back, no doubt wondering what she was doing there acting perfectly natural. But there was no mistaking the emphasized politeness when she turned in hers’ and Jackson’s work to Mr. Hack, being unable to present to the class now, or the forced cheerfulness when she showed around the new monsters who would be attending school there in the coming semester.

It was Lagoona, who served with Frankie on the welcoming committee, who alerted Clawdeen and Draculaura to their friend’s facade. Since Draculaura’s father had sounded the alarm to the other monster parents that morning, tensions were running high amongst them on top of already feeling terrible for the way they’d treated Frankie a few days ago. Cleo had been spending the day with Deuce, who was possibly taking it just as hard as Frankie was, and Abbey had devoted her attention to Heath while Operetta retreated mournfully to the catacombs and hadn’t emerged since the news had broken free first thing that morning. It was rather remarkable the different ways everyone dealt with a crisis, but Frankie was far too focused on keeping herself in control to notice much. And until lunch, she had been doing a pretty good job.

The next thing she knew, she was in the ghouls’ bathroom sobbing into Clawdeen’s brand new faux fur sweater.

“Frankie, you should’ve told us,” Clawdeen said gently, running her clawed fingers through Frankie’s long hair as Draculaura joined in rubbing her back. “There’s no way you would’ve been able to shoulder this by yourself.”

“My father said he didn’t want--”

“I don’t care what your father said,” Clawdeen snapped at Draculaura. “We wouldn’t have told anyone.”

“It wasn’t Dracula’s word,” Frankie gulped, taking the paper towels Lagoona handed her. “It was Jackson’s I didn’t want to break. He didn’t want to worry anyone about Holt’s stupid mistake.”

“I can’t imagine how awful it must have been, watching them drag him off,” Draculaura wept copious bitter tears as she hugged Frankie tight. “I’m so sorry about the other day, Frankie. If I had known it was something this terrible--”

“We’re sorry we tried to push you into telling us something you couldn’t,” Clawdeen nodded, flicking a tear from the corner of her eye with her talon fingernail as Lagoona continued to hand off paper towels to the rest of them. The door opened slowly but deliberately and Cleo stepped in, followed by Ghoulia.

“My father’s coming home from Cairo tonight,” she announced, stowing her phone back into her purse.

“What?” Lagoona’s eyes widened.

“Apparently he deems this dire situation worthy of his attention and input,” Cleo explained, then added under her breath _“Bravo, Holt.”_

 _“Cleo!”_ Clawdeen hissed, indicating Frankie who was dabbing at her running mascara under her eyes.

“Frankie,” Cleo began with a deep sigh, then gestured to Ghoulia who groaned out an apology from both of them. It was well known that the Egyptian princess never apologized for anything, and Frankie nodded at her in acceptance. “And you’re off probation.”

“I don’t think she really cares about her position on the Fearleading squad right now,” Clawdeen muttered, but Frankie had grown to understand Cleo’s ways of trying to comfort and make amends. She was just trying to help, and that was all Frankie needed from her ghoulfriends right now.

“Well it is the end of the scaremester, why don’t we all have a creepover at my house? It will help take your mind off of it.”

“I don’t want to take my mind off of it, I want to _do_ something about it,” Frankie clenched the soiled paper towels in her fist as she turned to face Cleo.

“We’re monsters, we don’t have any power with the normie authorities,” Clawdeen growled. “We’re total second class citizens to them.”

“Excuse you, I am not a second class citizen to _anyone_ if they know what’s good for them!” Cleo scowled. “In fact, the whole reason Daddy’s coming home is to see if he can pull some strings in Holt’s favor!”

“Wait, what?” Frankie blinked, the first hopeful spark in ages rising up within her.

“Why would he do that?” Lagoona asked skeptically, familiar with the de Niles isolated ideals of superiority over other monsters.

“Because I asked him to,” Cleo said simply, folding her arms across her chest in defense.

 _“You?”_ Clawdeen raised her thick eyebrows in disbelief.

“Cleo!” Draculaura exclaimed warmly, “That’s, like, the nicest thing you’ve ever done!”

“Between Mr. de Nile and the Count, they just might have enough power to pull this off!” Lagoona said happily.

“It won’t erase what’s been done, but if they play their cards right it _may_ soften the blow a bit,” Cleo explained.

“You’re making all of this happen for Jackson and Holt?” Frankie asked, still a bit perplexed. “Why?”

“Because I know that if the same thing happened to Deuce, you all would do anything you could to help me out,” Cleo replied, dropping her diplomatic tone for the first time since entering the room.

“Frankie, after everything you’ve done for us,” Clawdeen added, wrapping an arm around Frankie’s shoulders, “We owe you big time.”

Frankie was so grateful she didn't know what to say, so she shed some more tears as she embraced Cleo. "Thank you. All of you ghouls, I mean...I've felt so helpless trying to figure this out on my own. I just can't stand that this had to happen at all. I care about him _so_ much."

"We know you do, mate," Lagoona soothed.

"I think we knew before you did," Draculaura said with a slight giggle.

"I'm kind of slow on the uptake when it comes to this love stuff," Frankie admitted, cracking a smile back at her.

"But when you feel it, ghoul, you feel it strong," Clawdeen said, blinking through her misty eyes. "And that love's gonna see you through this."

"Aw, never thought I'd hear that comin' outta _your_ mouth, Clawdeen," Lagoona grinned.

"Yeah seriously, I dunno what came over me," Clawdeen muttered a bit disgustedly, and the ghouls shared a laugh. Frankie almost couldn't believe the entire conversation that had just taken place. After all of the hardship the past few days had caused, was there really a possible way out of this?

 

~

**Say it**

_What?_

**Just go ahead and say it**

_I don’t know what you’re talking about._

**Say Im a dumb screwup who cant keep it together! Only worse cuz I get u mixed up in it too**

_Well now I guess I don’t have to, you just did._

**Gee thanks**

_Holt, I’m sorry._

**What the heck are U sorry for! Kill any1 lately?!**

_No I mean I’m sorry I get so mad at you over something you have trouble controlling. I mean, something I have trouble controlling._

**Oh**

_Anyway, just needed to get that out before they take our phones away._

**Aw glad u mean that Jackie boy. I guess Im sorry u gotta take the fall for my stupidity.**

_Forget it. It comes with the territory. I get that now. No one ever said being a monster was going to be easy._

**Whaddya thinks gonna happen to us?**

_I really don’t want to think about it. What concerns me is what we’re leaving behind._

**Mom, Heath, Deuce, Operetta, Clawd, the ghouls. Frankie. Man I wish I coulda seen her one last time**

_She couldn’t do it, Holt._

**Whaddya mean she couldnt do it?**

**Jackson? JJ?**

 

~

It was with a significantly lighter heart that Frankie put her best efforts into the last Fearleading practice of the term. After talking with the ghouls in the bathroom, she had gotten a voicemail from her father saying that Jackson and Holt were being held in custody, but Count Dracula had ensured that the normie police would not harm him on the grounds that he was a minor. He and Cleo’s father were going to fight to get Holt a fair trial, but in the meantime he and Jackson could receive one visitor at a time. Frankie had sighed and held the phone to her chest. They weren’t out of the woods, but at least she could see him. Sure he was locked in a jail cell, but that was far better than any of the other horrible thoughts of what could’ve been happening to him swirling around in her brain all day. Frankie's heart was still breaking underneath her peppy school spirit at the thought of never being able to have a normal relationship with him again, but it was still better than the worst case scenario. Besides, this was not the time to be thinking about herself.

The other ghouls were keeping their eyes on her, staying nearby in case she needed a shoulder to lean on. Which was why Frankie had ducked out quickly without changing once practice was over. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate her ghouls’ comfort and concern, she would have been truly lost without it, but their gazes shifting to her constantly was starting to make her a bit uneasy. Heading down the hallway, she passed the boys finishing up their own Casketball practice in the gym. She noticed Deuce, Clawd, and Heath all looking a little low energy and headed inside to stand beside Abbey, who was waiting for Heath to finish up.

“Fearleading practice good, yes?” Abbey asked her, and Frankie nodded. Then she sucked in her breath as the normally unaffectionate yeti girl hugged her unexpectedly. “Am sorry for everything. Must make your heart very sad.”

“Yeah it does,” Frankie admitted, returning the embrace. That image of watching Jackson being hauled out the door by the cops was probably going to haunt her for the rest of her unlife. “But at least he’s just in custody for now.”

“Hey Frankie,” Deuce came up to them wiping his face with a towel, followed by Clawd and Heath. “My mom and Clawd’s dad have been texting us all day. Is it true Holt might get a trial?”

“I sure hope so,” Frankie said. “If he does, then at least there’s a chance of reducing his sentence.”

“Reducing it from what?” Heath asked, resting his arm around Abbey’s waist as they stood close together. “They’re not really gonna...there’s no way they’d actually…?”

“Heath, they were gonna give him the Trick or Treatment just for a couple of dumb pranks,” Clawd pointed out grimly. “Take a wild guess what they’ll do to him for manslaughter, especially a monster-on-normie attack.”

“Do not care if he slaughter dozen yaks,” Abbey chimed in with a hard tone in her voice. “Does not be deserving of such harsh punishment. They say two wrongs not be making right, yes?”

“Unfortunately when it comes to us monsters, the normies don’t see it that way,” Clawd growled. “And they won’t stop at Jackson and Holt, they’ll do whatever it takes to get us all locked up. Or worse…” He left the sentence hanging and they all fell silent for a moment, Frankie crossing her arms as if she were cold, staring at the floor miserably. The far reaching consequences of this would continue long after Holt’s fate was sealed. Their community would have to split up and move far away from Salem to avoid being dealt the same hand as her boyfriend. Monster High would be abandoned and Frankie would never see any of her friends again. It was enough to make her spark mournfully as she brushed a tear from her stitched cheek.

“Dude, Clawd, tone it down a little,” Deuce said quietly, jerking his head in Frankie’s direction. “She’s got enough on her mind as it is.”

“Yeah, sorry Frankie, really I am,” Clawd shook his head, his wolf ears drooping in shame. “I think I should call home real fast and see if there’s any news. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

“I as well,” Abbey agreed as Clawd headed out of the gym, “Must talk to parents up in mountains.” She squeezed Heath’s hand before following the alpha wolf out the door, leaving Frankie alone with the boys.

“How have you guys been holding up?” Frankie asked, absentmindedly fiddling with the hem of her Fearleading uniform skirt.

“As good as I can, I guess,” Heath sighed, his face falling into uncharacteristic sadness. “My parents are freaking out, Abbey’s parents want her to move back home to be safe, no one’s seen Operetta all day and--yeah, my cousin might die, so there’s that.”

“It’s crazy, that’s what it is,” Deuce added, running a hand through his scalp of snake hair and resting it on the back of his neck. “One day you’re creaming each other at video games, the next he’s...not there anymore. It’s scary, and not in a good way. How ‘bout you?”

Frankie sniffled, wiping under her teary eyes so roughly she smudged her reapplied eyeliner. “I think I’ve cried more in the past twelve hours than I have in my entire unlife. I...I was there. I was with him for like five minutes before the sheriff took him away and it just tore me apart.”

“With Holt?” Heath asked, his eyebrows raised.

“No, Jackson,” Frankie replied. “I haven’t seen Holt, not since he--he lied to me about what happened. It’s too hard to forgive him, not only for what he did and what it’s costing everyone, but for betraying my trust, too. But avoiding him on purpose like a coward makes me just as bad as him in a lot of ways.”

“Frankie, I don’t wanna pry into your relationship or whatever,” Deuce began, resting a large hand on her shoulder comfortingly. “But you’re gonna have to face him before his sentence. You know you have to, and you know he only lied because he didn’t wanna cause you pain.”

“It hurt more hearing it secondhand from Jackson. Well, not really secondhand, they’re the same person.”

“Man, all this over getting shorted on a check,” Heath finally exhaled in exasperation. “If he hadn’t been all frantic over saving up to buy you a Christmas gift this might not’ve--”

“Whoa hold it, what do you mean a Christmas gift?” Frankie’s head shot up. Every new piece of information seemed to bring more bad news, and even though her heart couldn’t take much more of a beating, her curious nature got the better of her.

“He didn’t tell you?” Those were that _last_ words she wanted to hear. “Those extra gigs closer to the howlidays? The whole reason he was taking them was so he could get you something special.”

“Remember that necklace with the silver chain you were eyeing that one time with the ghouls at the Maul?” Frankie racked her brains until she drew her breath suddenly as it dawned on her. It was a gorgeous choker with a lightning bolt pendant dotted with real diamonds, engraved on the reverse side with the cursive words “You’ve pierced my heart.” She had definitely expressed an excited interest in it, and Deuce nodded at her as he went on, “He was saving up to surprise you with it.”

“Deucey!” a sing-song cry rang out as Cleo glided into the gym and latched onto his arm. “It’s getting late and you promised to take me ice skating before Daddy gets home. I’d rather he not see us together, if you catch my drift.” She looked over at Frankie with an air of confidence, “Don’t worry Frankie, my father will make sure everything gets sorted out as it should.”

“Yeah…”

“See you around Frankie, hang in there,” Deuce smiled at her encouragingly as Cleo dragged him out the door towards the parking lot.

“Frankie?” Heath asked, looking at her shocked still stature. “You okay?”

“Yeah...yeah I’m fine…” Frankie replied dazedly. She wasn’t. “Listen I--um--have to go do something right now.” Without so much as a goodbye, she sprinted from the gym to her locker. Ripping her clothes out violently, she slammed her locker door hard, stooped down to pick up her detached hand that had popped off her wrist from the force, and ran to the ghouls' bathroom to change. There was only one way this whole thing could have gotten worse, and that way had come to pass. Those extra gigs Holt took on closer to Christmas, his anger at not getting the money he was promised, beating that normie to death, her being unable to be there to prevent it, the solitary confinement, the sheriff’s words to her, the possible death penalty, all of it. No matter which way anyone sliced it, Frankie was always in the middle. All this time she’d been mad at the wrong person. Now thanks to Deuce and Heath, she knew who to blame. _All_ of this had happened because of her.

And as much as she wanted to get home, fling herself on her lab table bed and weep countless tears until she short circuited, that was the furthest thing from her mind. She had caused this all to happen, and now she was going to be the cause that fixed it. Whatever it took, even if she had to sell her soul, no one was going to die on her account. Once Count Dracula and Mr. de Nile secured a fair trial, Frankie would spring into action. It wasn’t going to be easy, and it wasn’t much of a plan, but it had to work. It couldn’t _not_ work. The case just couldn’t be that hopeless, and the world just couldn’t be that cruel.

 

~

Sleep. That was pretty much all Jackson did since being shoved into this isolated jail cell with nothing but a stiff, cold and uncomfortable cot to keep him company. The only times he really felt awake were for meals and when his mom came to see him. He wished the sheriff would have left him alone with her while they talked, but naturally that was out of the question. The last thing a monster with blood on his hands would be permitted was privacy.

Judging by the position of the sun, it was almost evening and visiting hours would end soon. He sighed, stretching his long legs out on the mat and bouncing the back of his head repeatedly against the wall. Maybe the sheriff was keeping her from him. After the stunt they pulled springing Holt last Halloween, Jackson wouldn’t blame him. Maybe he thought she was going to whisper some secret plan through the bars to Jackson in code or something, planning his escape. That was unlikely to happen even if she were here, Jackson thought glumly to himself. Frankie was smart, she thought things through and had a resourceful spirit, but there was no way even _she_ could have a plan to stop this all from happening. Why didn’t the sheriff just read off his sentence and get it over with? What was he doing, keeping him in suspense? He already knew what was coming.

His answer seemed to be coming quicker than he expected as the heavy door leading to his cage opened and the sheriff stepped in, closing it behind him. With a stern sort of half smile that didn’t reach his eyes, he swung the key ring around on his index finger as he approached Jackson from the other end of the hallway, footsteps echoing ominously.

“Oh boy, do I get dessert too?” Jackson said sarcastically, a mocking excited smile playing on his features.

“Depends on what you call ‘dessert,’” the sheriff said bluntly to his joke, jingling the keys until he found the right one and clicked open Jackson’s cell bars. “You have a visitor, just in the nick of time.”

“My mom again?”

“That preachy green girl with the stitches all over her.”

“ _Better_ than dessert,” Jackson exhaled happily, closing his eyes in contentment. Standing to exit the cell, the sheriff held up a hand to stop him and Jackson bumped right into it. “What?”

“She’s not here to see _you_ ,” the sheriff went on. “She wants to talk to the other one.” Jackson was stunned for a moment before regaining his bearings, a hollow feeling of dread settling in his stomach. Was this it? Frankie was going to face Holt head on, all by herself? Did she really believe there was no hope for him and had to get out whatever she needed to say to his Hyde half before their time was up? He couldn’t help his hand trembling slightly as he reached for the headphones the sheriff held out for him. Clamping them over his ears, the familiar transformation rush overtook him until he felt free, wild and expressive, so unlike him without the music in his ears.

“Uh oh, am I pushin' up daisies already?” Holt arched his pierced eyebrow worriedly.

“C’mon you, she’s waiting and she’s only got five minutes,” the sheriff clapped him hard on the shoulder and pushed him forward back down the hallway and through the heavy door, leading him to a room he hadn’t been in before, but possibly Jackson had. Several long tables were separated by a wall of glass, a chair set on each side of the table facing each other through the glass. At the furthest one on the opposite side sat someone Holt had hoped he’d see again but wasn’t sure if he would, sitting in her black and white winter coat and looking downward at her folded gloved hands in her lap. Lacking the energy to exclaim joyfully, he just grinned as the sheriff plunked him unceremoniously down in the seat facing her.

“Five. Minutes.” The sheriff emphasized each word directly into each of their faces, and Frankie slowly raised her eyes to meet him.

“Thank you,” she said tightly in a tone that suggested politeness but didn’t relish it. Once he retreated across the room to watch them from the far wall, Holt raked his eyes up and down his ghoulfriend, taking in every bit of her. She looked tired, a lot of makeup was covering her puffy eyes. Or maybe she’d been crying. He hoped not.

“Hey, my sweet Frankie Fine,” Holt broke the silence, his normally high-volume DJ rocker voice cooled down to a suave and rather charming indoor voice.

“Don’t call me that,” Frankie nearly cut him off abruptly. She may as well have spit icicles at the glass, her tone was so icy. Holt backed away a bit, his flirtatious approach dissolving. Her worn eyes, one blue and one green, were now penetrating his red ones, narrowed into black mascara-coated fury. Her folded hands gripped tighter together in her lap as she began to breathe heavily in her chest. Holt caught on quickly that this was not going to be a pleasant visit where they would express their affections in hushed voices, grasping at each other’s hands through the opening in the bottom of the glass against the tabletop, wishing their lips would meet. Frankie meant business, and she wasn’t leaving until she accomplished that business. He gave her a slight nod that he was listening and she let the words drop, in a voice so deep in tone, so clashing to her typically buoyancy that had Holt not been looking her in the face, he wouldn’t have known it was her.

“Do you have _any_ idea what you’ve done?”

Holt nodded, "Yeah I do."

"You've risked everyone's safety."

"I know."

"You've risked the future of Monster High."

"I...I know."

"You lied to me."

"I..." The words stuck in his throat like peanut butter. "Frankie I didn't--"

"You looked me straight in the eye and you _lied_ to me." Her voice had started to quiver, and she cleared her throat determinedly. Then she shrugged slightly, "What else have you lied to me about?"

"Nothin'." Thank ghoul he could say _that_ with confidence. She squinted back at him.

"Beat anyone else up? Disturbed the peace? Made out with Operetta or Catty Noir behind my back?"

" _No_ , Frankie," Holt said almost angrily. How badly had he compromised the honesty between them that she would accuse him of something like that? He leaned forward again, his breath fogging the glass. " _You_ are my number one ghoul. You're the one who gets my heart, my kisses, my secrets, all of that."

"You didn't tell me everything that happened when I asked you to," Frankie shook her head. "Not about saving up for the necklace or almost killing a guy to get the money he owed you or _any_ of that! No matter how bad it was, I just wanted you to be honest with me!"

"Frankie Fi--Frankie, I couldn't do that to you. It'd break your heart, and I didn't wanna be responsible for that. The first thing a dude promises when he asks a ghoul to be his ghoulfriend, besides makin' her happy, is he's never gonna break her heart. I did it for you, you gotta believe me."

"I don't know what to believe anymore."

"Believe _me_ , Frankie, I'm your boyfriend!" Holt exclaimed, then dropped his voice back down when he caught the sheriff out the corner of his eye. "Believe me 'cause I love you. You don't have to love me back anymore, you don't even have to forgive me for what I did, but please just understand why I didn't tell you the truth." Frankie sucked in her lip as it started to shake, finally unfolding her hands. Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on the table. Then, very slowly, she inched her hand towards the opening in the glass, resting it there for him to take if he chose to.

"Of course I love you back," Frankie's voice broke as a single tear leaked out down her cheek. "This wouldn't hurt so much if I didn't. Even though it doesn't make it right and I don't agree with it, I understand why you didn't tell me the whole story. And..." She gazed at him for a moment, and Holt watched her frosty expression melt. He reached for her hand as more tears started to slide down her face, the anxiety at her confrontational attitude dwindling. She drew a shaking breath at last, "And I forgive you."

"Aw Frankie," Holt breathed out. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all these screw-ups. I'm sorry I killed that guy. I didn't mean to, and it didn't matter how mad I was. And I'm sorry that my ghoulfriend has to get herself all mixed up in it."

"I know you are," Frankie nodded, her face crumpling. "I'm sorry, too."

"Don't cry, baby...please don't cry." Holt hung onto her hand with both of his, stroking it gently as Frankie dropped her head onto the table, weeping softly into her arm. It didn't take a genius to figure out this was something that had been plaguing her mind and heart for awhile, and finally letting go of all that stifled anger to him now was the best thing she could have done for herself. Whatever it took to cleanse her ailing heart from a hardship she didn't deserve to suffer through. “It’s the Hyde thing, ya know?” he went on while she calmed herself. “Splittin’ up the good and evil? I’m the evil. I always have been.”

“You’re not the Hyde he was,” Frankie said hoarsely, soaking up her remaining tears in her gloves. “You’re not evil, Holt. You just did something evil that you can never take back.” She squeezed his hand right back, “I wouldn’t have fallen for someone who was evil.”

“Guess that’s why I fell for you,” Holt smiled, swiping at a tear in his own eye. “You’re so good, and that brings out the best of me.” Frankie closed her damp eyes as Holt leaned forward, pressing his lips against the glass where her forehead would be. “Can I at least get a _little_ smile?” Despite her still pained glittering eyes, Frankie managed to upturn the corners of her mouth in his direction. “Yeah, there’s my Fine Stein,” he nodded satisfactorily.

“Just know that no matter how I feel about this...you don’t deserve to die for it.” Frankie pressed her own lips to the glass, leaving a deep red lipstick print behind as she pulled away.

“Time’s up,” the sheriff called, making his way across the room towards them, and they jerked their hands away from each other.

“So, we okay then?” Holt asked hopefully. Frankie pressed her lips into a thin line, having a serious debate with herself as the sheriff pulled Holt up from the chair by his arm.

“I love you, Holt Hyde,” she said quietly, her voice dropping back down deeply. “And I’ll support you, _no matter what._ ” She gazed right at the sheriff when she said this, and held his steely gaze for a moment before turning back to Holt. “But I am still _so_ angry at you.”

Holt was yanked roughly away from the table just as Frankie pushed back her seat and rushed out the door, her hand pressed to her mouth. He hung his head as his feet shuffled back to the cell, almost positive that that was the last time he was ever going to see her.

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Perhaps sleep would be good thing, yes?” Abbey suggested to her exhausted, emotionally drained friend who lay sprawled on the guest bed moved in beside Abbey’s. Of all the creepovers Frankie had attended in her short unlife, this one was by far the quietest. And least enjoyable. After she’d left her prison visit with Holt, gotten into her car and released her remaining frustration in the form of tears, she simply sat there feeling like a wreck and not knowing where to turn next. She didn’t want to go home, her parents were already making worst case scenario plans to move her back with them to Germany if the entire Salem monster community went under. Frankie didn’t want to discuss it with them, naturally she was dead set against it, and not just because she could barely speak eight words of German. Spending the night with one of her ghoulfriends was the best bet, and for some reason Abbey was the first one to come to mind. Probably because the rest of her friends wore their fear on their sleeves like a new winter line accessory and the last thing Frankie needed was to be surrounded by panic. She was sure Abbey was scared too, but she wouldn’t show it. She was like a rock, and right now a rock was what Frankie wanted.

Sure enough, the yeti girl had simply listened patiently while Frankie spilled her guts about her encounter with Holt, and Frankie guessed she must have sounded pathetic enough for Abbey to agree to have her over that night. She lived with Headmistress Bloodgood during the school year, and Frankie had to admit it was a bit odd seeing the Headmistress outside of her formal position at school. She seemed a lot younger, more vibrant and more enthusiastically opinionated away from the stifling office, and without the Board of Deaducation breathing down her back. It was almost like Frankie was watching herself in about twenty years or so, which might have explained why she always felt a sort of fondness for Bloodgood. After a rather loud and heated dinner discussion about the injustice of monster persecution distributed by normies, Frankie felt more tired than ever as she and Abbey retired to their room. But there was no way she was going to be able to sleep tonight, not until she knew for sure what was going to happen to Jackson and Holt.

“Yeah Abbey, sleep would be great,” Frankie sighed deeply, her mouth still dry and her eyes still sore from all the crying she’d been doing that day. “I just don’t think I’ll be able to. Now that I've cleared the air with Holt, all I feel is scared. If he doesn’t get a trial, then there really is nothing I can do for him. He’ll be executed…” She shook her head, groaning against her pillow. “I’m sorry, Abbey. Here you are offering your hospitality, and here I am repeating myself like a broken record.”

“Frankie, you be doing what is needing to be done to survive ordeal,” Abbey said, going over to her dresser where a rather ornate icicle night light rested. “I see not ghoul who is bothering me with trivial words of the rambling, but ghoul who is afraid of losing most loved person in her heart and is not wanting to be alone.”

“Thanks, Abbey,” Frankie smiled her first real smile in hours at her, “You really hit it right on the bolt there.”

“Plus am listening to Heath do the rambling today too, so maybe I am used to it,” Abbey shrugged. “Have be spending so much time giving comfort to friends today that I not have much time to be thinking about things to myself.”

“So are you really going to move back home to the Himalayas?” Frankie asked sadly.

“Am not sure,” Abbey’s face fell. “If Holt sentenced to worst punishment, then is likely. I do the protesting, but parents are insisting this must be. Are not punishing me, just wanting me close by if unlives are threatened. I am wanting this as well, but...will sadden me to leave Heath and ghoulfriends if I do.”

"I know how that is...my parents want to move me away, too." Frankie glanced up curiously at the ornament Abbey was fiddling with, "What is that anyway?"

"Watch." Abbey dimmed the lights in the room and flicked the switch on the faux icicles. Dozens of colored lights shifted and flowed along the ceiling, taking the shape of the Aurora Borealis. "Is the northern lights of my home. I watching them whenever I feeling the distress. Maybe will help you, too."

"They're beautiful, Abbey," Frankie breathed. She'd seen pictures online of course, but it didn't have the same effect as watching a replica. She could only imagine what the real thing was like, a sense of tranquility and peace out in the frigid air. For Frankie, it was a moment of rest from all this stress as she watched the lights dance against the ceiling, imagining that the soft blanket wrapped around her was Jackson's arms keeping her warm as they watched the display together. Maybe someday a long time from now, after the rush from this incident had disapparated, they would actually be able to hold each other like this again. Frankie never liked to think of herself as clingy, but she loved the way Jackson's rather strong embrace made her feel safe and she never wanted to lose that.

Just as she began to close her eyes and drift off, there was a knock on the door and Bloodgood wrenched it open in haste before either of them could invite her in. “Frankie, Abbey, good news! Dracula just called, he said that he and Mr. de Nile were able to guarantee Jackson and Holt a trial on the grounds that he’s half normie. It’s not a sure thing that he’s out of danger, but it’s certainly a step in the right direction!”

“Oh my ghoul,” Frankie exhaled as if a giant rock had been lifted off her shoulders as Bloodgood surprised both she and Abbey with hugs. “He’s getting a trial.” It was like she needed to repeat it to herself in order to make sure it was truly happening. But this was no time to just be sitting around thanking her lucky stars, she had work to do in deciding what to say that fateful day in court. Was she sure all of these adult normies would care what some teenage monster had to say? Not at all, but perhaps if she sounded convincing enough she could get them to reduce Holt’s sentence. Frankie had had to say plenty of flowery persuasive words in the past, but those were on a whim. She was going to have to _really_ give this one a lot of thought.

“This is very good thing,” Abbey smiled as widely as she could, grabbing her phone from the dresser where it was charging. “Must tell family in Himalayas.”

“Frankie, could I talk to you for a minute alone?” Bloodgood asked quietly once Abbey had dialed the number and covered her other ear so she could talk without distraction. Frankie nodded and stood to follow the Headmistress out into the hallway, keeping the blanket wrapped around her as a comfort.

“What is it?” she asked, shuffling her feet nervously. Was there some sort of catch to this whole thing? She should have known it was too good to be true.

“Frankie, don’t think I don’t know that your wheels are turning.”

“My--my what are what?”

“You’re planning to take the stand at the trial,” Bloodgood stated firmly, pointing directly into her face. “I know that look in your eyes, that look you have whenever you resolve to take matters into your own hands.”

“I--well, I was--” Frankie honestly didn’t know how to respond. She had a _look_? Why didn’t anyone tell her? Was that a bad thing?

“I admire your spirit, child,” Bloodgood went on, taking Frankie by the shoulders. “I confess I see much of myself in you when I was your age. And because of that, I know I cannot stop you from doing this. But I also know that you tend to be extremely reckless, and I’m warning you now...this is the law we’re talking about. Holt has done something ghastly and is being charged fairly for it. _Tread lightly._ ”

“Headmistress, I'm just going to do what I always do,” Frankie found the strength in her voice once more as she stared her down. “Tell them what I know in my heart is _right._ ” There was silence for a moment, apart from Abbey speaking rapid Yetish in the room beside them. Then Bloodgood reached up and ran an affectionate hand along the top of Frankie’s head.

“I implore you, Frankie, just be careful,” she said gently, “Don’t do anything that will cause him more harm than good. The court date is the 24th, so I advise you to fully prepare yourself until that time.”

“The 24th?” Frankie’s heart tugged a little. “As in, Christmas Eve?”

“An unfortunate side effect,” Bloodgood nodded, hearing Abbey hang up her phone in the bedroom. “Remember, tread lightly.” She gave Frankie’s shoulders a squeeze before heading back around the corner out of sight, leaving Frankie alone in the hall. It was more than about just saving her boyfriend now, it seemed that she had the entire future of monsterkind resting on her testification. Whether she succeeded or, heaven forbid, not, nothing about this was going to be easy. But she had to do it if only so she could say, without a guilty conscience, that she had given it her all.

 

~

“This is not looking good, ghouls,” Clawdeen shook her head dismally, and as Frankie nervously fisted the hem of the plainest, neatest skirt she could find in her closet, she had to admit her werewolf friend seemed right. The morning of the 24th dawned cold and grey, hopefully not an indicator of things to come, and Frankie had entered the courtroom early with her parents, parting with them to sit with her ghouls as they went to convene with the other monster parents. The normie who had fallen victim to Holt didn’t have his shortage of supporters in the hall either, as she caught the eyes of several presumed relatives and friends eyeing Frankie’s own friends and family, some with complete and utter disgust. One thing she had predicted had already come true: This was going to be hard. Not just in trying lessen Holt’s sentence, but in trying to do so without letting any glares or comments thrown at her or any other monster rattle her.

This hadn’t been too difficult for Frankie to manage, being rather upbeat and friendly by default. It was when Holt had entered the courtroom escorted by two policemen that her optimism wavered jarringly. Many of the normie adults and children alike made very obvious, loudly whispered comments in his direction, calling him things that almost made Frankie jump out of her seat in fury. But Abbey and Draculaura kept their hands firmly clamped to her arms so she wouldn’t do anything of the sort, and remained there as a comfort when Frankie’s and Holt’s gazes met. Frankie had only seen Holt look like this once before, when it was announced he was receiving the Trick or Treatment last Halloween. He looked so frightened, confused, desperate to find any way to take back what he had done, and it devastated Frankie so horribly that she nearly lost any spirit she had left in her. He was pleading for her to help him, and in lacking any guarantee that she could, she only felt like she was disappointing him. And now, as Heath was called up to the stand as a witness, the gravity of this day, these next couple of hours, was pressing in on all of them. Half of this courtroom was going to go home happy, the other half feeling robbed, cheated, angry and wounded by despair. Whatever Frankie did today, it was certainly not going to please everyone.

"And you're certain the defendant had no ill intentions towards his victim upon entering the parking lot?" the prosecuting lawyer asked Heath, who fidgeted nervously in his seat.

"Nah, he wouldn't on purpose," the fire elemental responded quietly. "He just wanted what he was owed."

"And would have acquired it by any means necessary?"

"Hey look, Holt's got a temper problem, okay? It runs in my family, all us fire elementals have a kinda short fuse." Heath glanced out towards the audience at Abbey, who gave him a slight nod in encouragement. "He wouldn't kill anyone on purpose. He _didn't_ kill him on purpose."

"Thank you Mr. Burns, that's all I need," the prosecutor said dismissively, and Heath looked a bit stunned that he'd only spent a total of ten minutes on the bench. It was almost as if the prosecution wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. During the lull between witnesses, Frankie heard the faint clicking of keyboard keys behind her. She whirled around to see an excited Spectra Vondergeist tapping eagerly away at her laptop, a wide smile on her face, and Frankie felt her electrical current crackle. The infamous author of _The Ghostly Gossip_ didn't seem to care about Jackson and Holt's unlives or what could happen to them, she just wanted the scoop so her blog would get more hits. Even though the ghost girl wasn't looking in her direction, Frankie still shot her the dirtiest look she could muster.

"The prosecution calls Operetta to the stand." Several heads whipped around as the deep redheaded phantom stood from the back of the room and walked slowly down the aisle up to the stand. No one had seen her since Holt's arrest, and contrary to the emotional mess most were expecting, Operetta looked completely calm and collected. Frankie was almost jealous of her tough exterior, until she saw how sad her eyes were as she drew closer to where she sat. Maybe she had simply bawled herself into a state of numbness like Frankie had, and it was enough to make her reach out and grasp Operetta's fingertips as she passed. The southern belle returned the grip briefly before letting go to mount the stand and take the oath. Most of the questions were the same as the ones Heath had been asked, and all of Operetta's responses were the same, until they reached the inquiry "Had you ever seen Mr. Hyde exhibit this sort of behavior before?"

Operetta hesitated, lowering her eyes to her lap. "Yeah, I have."

"Could you tell the court the approximate point in time you remember this occurring?"

"I went out with him once on a date to a club over a year ago," the phantom began slowly. "He beat up on this gargoyle all because he ran into me and didn't apologize sincerely."

"I see..."

"He didn't kill the guy, just punched him and got us kicked out!" Operetta clarified hastily, looking around the courtroom with wide eyes. "I'd never seen him rough anyone up _that_ bad until the night two weeks ago at the gig! I swear!"

"But he _is_ known for this type of aggression?"

"Y-yeah I guess..." Operetta trailed off, glancing at Holt in the defendant's chair with the most heartfelt apologetic look on her face.

"That's all I have, your honor."

"Wait, I ain't done yet!" Operetta yelled, her eyebrows knitting together in anger as she was forced to step down from the bench. As she stomped back up the aisle, she stopped at where Frankie sat, her eyes softening into complete and utter defeat. "I'm sorry, Frankie," she whispered, and Frankie jumped up from her seat to hug her tightly.

"It's not your fault," Frankie soothed as they held onto the embrace for several moments before breaking apart. "You did what you could." Filled with compassion, she watched the phantom retreat sadly back to her seat in the rear.

“Are there no more witnesses for the defense?” Frankie whirled around, her still heart leaping into her mouth. This was it…

“You honor,” began the mummy hired by Cleo’s father to represent Holt, “I have no--”

“Wait!” The word exploded from Frankie’s mouth before she had a moment to think, and the audience as a unit turned in her direction. Everyone besides her closest ghoulfriends was looking at her as if she’d grown another head. All except for Bloodgood, whose narrowed gaze whispered the repetitive _“Tread lightly"_  and Frankie’s parents, who looked like they were fighting against every whim they had to physically grab their daughter and drag her from the courtroom.

“Your honor, if you please,” Frankie began politely after a deep collecting breath, scooting past Abbey out of the bench and heading up the aisle, her four-inch heels echoing in the now silent hall. “I would like to say a few words on the defendant’s behalf.”

“Objection, your honor!” the prosecutor roared, looking more than irritated that this trial would be going on longer than he anticipated.

“On what grounds?” the aging judge asked from his pulpit, rubbing his left eye tiredly.

“She’s romantically affiliated with the defendant, her opinion will be based on nothing but bias!”

“I promise you it won’t,” Frankie said a bit louder once she approached the front of the pulpit. Her gaze traveled from the prosecutor to the judge, and she smiled sweetly. “You can make me take the oath if you want.”

“I figure we’d better, just to be safe,” the judge agreed, gesturing for Frankie to approach the bench. “I will allow her to say what she has to.” The prosecutor didn't hide that he was thoroughly miffed as Frankie placed her firmly stitched right hand on the Bible and held up her left one. After swearing to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth to the best of her knowledge, she finally sat at the witness stand. Now she could get a full view of the courtroom, and immediately her bolts sparked a bit. Half of the faces were judgemental and annoyed, the others scared for her yet behind her all the same. Beside the defending lawyer, she saw Holt grinning and giving her a thumbs up as if to say, _“You got this, Frankie Fine. Do your thang.”_

“What is your name, dear?” the judge asked.

“Frances Stein. Everyone calls me Frankie.” She heard a snort of laughter and a hiss of _“Frances?!”_ before Abbey shot ice from her index finger over her shoulder to glue Heath’s lips together.

“What is your relation to the defendant, Frankie?”

“I’m his ghou--er, girlfriend.”

“And you have something to say in his defense?”

“Not exactly in his defense,” Frankie said slowly, leaning forward as her confidence began to return to her. “I don’t think there’s a doubt in anyone’s mind that what Holt Hyde ultimately did was...despicable.” The word seemed to be both fact for the monster side and cruelly blunt enough for the normies against him, which was precisely why Frankie chose it. “Despite what his intentions were, if any, he did kill someone. And any kill, even accidental, deserves to be punished.” There were nods and murmurs of agreement, while Holt’s smile morphed into absolute horror, his red eyes screaming _“What are you doin’?!”_

“But to immediately jump to execution, simply because he’s a monster? That’s where I, and I’m sure many others here, take issue.” Her gaze found Sydney Jekyll sitting between Viveka and Mrs. Burns, clutching at her hands in her lap as she stared anxiously back at Frankie. Her eyes reflected the same emotional numbness Frankie’s did that could only be the result of hours of a heart bleeding out for the one she loved most. “We may be monsters, but we’re not a threat.” The sheriff, who made his appearance more for the spectacle than anything, let out a hearty laugh that earned a sharp glare from Frankie. “We do _not_ run around targeting normies as murder victims. That’s a myth made up by normie movies to make the world fear our parents and ancestors by exaggerating and twisting the facts of our true heritages.”

“So _she_ says!” the prosecutor cut in.

“I took the oath, didn’t I?!” Frankie shouted, springing from her seat and gripping the edges of the table to keep her sparking bolts under control. She caught Bloodgood shaking her head at her out the corner of her eye, and Frankie gingerly sat back down. “My father is a brilliant mad scientist, not the unintelligible hulk who kills villagers who don’t accept him. Count Dracula doesn’t drink the blood of people who are still alive, The Phantom doesn’t murder people in opera houses, and Holt is not the manifestation of pure evil! He inherited the curse, but it’s not the same for him. He and Jackson Jekyll share traits, words, emotions, they coexist together. And they are _incredible_ at it.” It was the first time she had ever really said aloud how proud she was that they worked so hard to cooperate with their differences, and it made tears spring to her eyes as she found Holt’s gaze again. She swallowed hard, “This was a special case. I wasn’t there when this all took place, but I think the accounts of the witnesses speak for themselves. Holt’s temper is a problem, and it needs to be dealt with. But not in such a way that is so...final. We all, every one of us here, have people we love and hold dearly. We wouldn’t want to see them snatched from us so suddenly. This kill was accidental, it could have been prevented. But it was not intentional, and shouldn’t be treated by the court as such. This instance will change my relationship with him forever. But it won’t kill it. I’ve forgiven him because I know he’s truly sorry for what he did, and will _never_ do it again. I know all of you are capable of doing the same.”

It was so quiet one could’ve heard a pin drop, and Frankie’s heels against the marble floor sounded especially loud as she stood from the bench. “That’s all I had to say, your honor.” Swiping at the corners of her eyes, she made her way back to her seat where Abbey stood to let her back in the bench.

“Good work,” the yeti girl rumbled under her breath.

“Way to go, Frankie,” Draculaura whispered, her own eyes swimming with tears.

“That was truly golden,” Cleo placed a hand on her shoulder from the seat behind, Deuce nodding his approval beside her.

The short recess seemed to take no time at all, at least to Frankie. Her head was still spinning over what had just happened, the fact that she’d spoken in a court of law trying to convince a bunch of normies not to kill her boyfriend. Had it worked? She really couldn’t tell. The fact that most everyone, save the prosecutor and the sheriff, considered her words worthy to listen to already spoke volumes. Both her parents and Bloodgood wore unreadable expressions, but neither of them were disapproving ones thankfully. What mattered most to her now, though, was whether she had convinced the judge. She hoped with everything inside her that in a few moments, the worst he could announce was a lifetime in prison.

“In the case of the State of Oregon versus Holt Hyde, the court has reached a verdict,” the judge announced. Out the corner of her eye, Frankie caught sight of the sheriff leaning against the wall, a slight grin on his face. That didn’t feel like a good sign…

“This court finds Mr. Hyde guilty of manslaughter and will be sentenced to…”

Frankie felt the ghouls on either side of her clutch her hands tightly. No one breathed.

“Capital punishment by electric chair.”

“What?!” screamed a voice that didn’t belong to Frankie. Cleo had apparently tried to fling herself aggressively up the aisle, but was restrained by Deuce. Everyone had stood at once. Normies were cheering and exclaiming with relief. Sydney had thrust her face into her hands, her sobs echoing through the hall. Heath pushed through the crowd to find Abbey and she pulled him into her arms once they made contact. Clawd’s face was hardened into absolute fury as he cradled Draculaura’s weeping frame. Even Spectra seemed to freeze in mid-type, her jaw hanging open as she hovered above them all.

Frankie hadn’t moved. She didn’t think she was physically capable of moving. After all of that...and they hadn’t retained a word of it...they didn’t even _care_. It was as if someone had slapped a Dead End sign in front of her face, making her unable to take even one step forward. The only face that was clear in her line of vision was Holt’s. The sheriff wasted no time in hauling him back up the aisle into his police escort, the DJ looking as if his entire world was crashing down around him. His head turned to look down at Frankie, still glued to her seat, and their eyes met. He mouthed _“I love you.”_ Which was all it took for Frankie to finally snap inside.

“No!” Frankie climbed over the back of the bench in an attempt to follow Holt out the door, but he was too far ahead. This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be the last time she was ever going to see him. It wasn’t _fair_. “Holt! _Holt!_ ”

“Frankie, don’t do it!” she heard Clawdeen shout, she and Clawd grabbing her from behind. “It’s done. It’s over. You did what you could.” She was right. Frankie had done all she could, and it wasn’t enough. If she put her mind to it, it was _always_ enough! Why hadn’t it been enough?!

“Frankie, come.” A much stronger, beefier hand pulled her backward and she crashed into her father’s tall, stately frame.

“I can’t, I have to follow him,” Frankie breathed heavily in panic, trying to escape her mother’s slender arms that had wrapped around her firmly. “They’re--they’re going to--”

“I know my darling, come here,” Viveka pulled her along until they were out the side door, Viktor revving up the automatic start on the car. “Come now, we’ll take you home.”

“Please Mom, just let me be with him--”

“They won’t let you be with him,” Viktor shook his head, opening the back door and Frankie clumsily tumbled inside. Hearing him slam the door shut, Frankie felt a sudden sense of terminality overtake her. It really was all over. She hadn’t even been able to tell Holt goodbye.

Hugging herself as she retreated into complete and utter hopelessness, she curled up into a ball on the backseat of her parents' car and burst into tears. Neither her mother nor father said a word to her from the front seats during the ride home, and only spoke when Frankie asked for their response several long minutes later.

“I really messed up, didn’t I? You’re so disappointed in me, aren’t you?”

“No, Frankie,” Viveka said in a choked voice, reaching around the back of the seat to hold Frankie’s hand. “You were wonderful.”

“We couldn’t be prouder of the way you conducted yourself back there,” Viktor said warmly, glancing at Frankie’s puffy washed out face in the rearview mirror. “We’re just so sorry it didn’t convince the people who mattered.”

 

~

If Jackson and Holt were going to die, the least Frankie could do was keep the promise she’d made to Jackson that night that felt like an eternity ago. Which was why she found herself on Mrs. J’s doorstep late that afternoon, knocking timidly on the door. At first she had felt that coming over like this would be an intrusion upon Mrs. J’s grief, until Frankie realized that she was grieving as well. Maybe it would do them both some good to be in each other’s company. After a minute, the door opened and a rundown, frazzled Sydney Jekyll slowly peered out onto the porch.

“Frankie?” she inquired, wiping the corners of her red teary eyes with a used tissue. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you,” Frankie replied, her throat tightening at seeing how heartbroken her boyfriend’s mother was. “To make sure you were okay.”

“Come on in,” Sydney opened the door wider to let her in. “Don’t mind the mess.”

“What m--?” Her words turned into a gasp when she entered the front room. It looked as if someone had broken in, yet rather it seemed that these things were deliberately wrecked. The mirror that hung in the front hall was shattered on the floor, shards of glass littering the walkway to the living room. Clothes and kitchen dishes had been flung here and there, newspapers had been torn to shreds, and the couch cushions had been thrown onto the carpet, which was wet from the broken flower vase. “Oh my _ghoul!_ What happened in here?”

“It was--” Sydney began, hastily picking up the cushions and tucking them back into the couch. “Well, it was Hyde.”

Frankie’s mouth fell open, _“You--”_

“I couldn’t help it,” Sydney sniffled as she took her cateye glasses off, trying to stem the flood of tears leaking out with her crumpled tissue. “I normally don’t lose control like this. But it suddenly hit me like a bulldozer that my son had been sentenced to death and...I just flared up. I only came back into myself about a half an hour ago.” She sat down on the reassembled couch and invited Frankie to sit beside her, to which she danced around the broken glass on the floor to oblige. “I should have called to see how you were, but I was so out of sorts.”

“No no, it’s fine, you didn’t have to,” Frankie said quickly, reaching for the box of tissues and handing them to her. She took a chance and reached for Mrs. J’s hand as she took a minute to dry her face.

“That was beautiful,” Sydney said with a slight smile at Frankie, “what you said in the courtroom.”

“Thank you,” Frankie nodded. “I just wish it’d made a difference.”

“They’re minds were made up the moment they arrested him,” Sydney muttered angrily. “I knew it. They weren’t going to listen to any sort of reason because half of them don’t believe we’re _capable_ of reason. At least you and both my boys got to make amends before all of this came to pass.”

“Yeah, that’s why I came.” Frankie tried to talk over the giant lump forming in her throat, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. “I sort of promised Jackson last week, that night I came over and we talked in his room, that I’d take care of you. I mean, not that you can’t take care of yourself, but that I would look after you if...if anything h-happened to him.” The tears spilled out hot and fast and Frankie covered her face with her hands, her bolts beginning to spark as the salty drops made contact. “I’m sorry!” she burst out in a sob, feeling thoroughly ashamed for losing it like this in front of someone who needed to cry way more than she did. “I just--I--I don’t know what I’m g-going to do without h-him!”

She was right. It was better to grieve along with someone else than alone in her room. When Mrs. J pulled her close right then, Frankie could feel her chest heaving with racking sobs, making the sorrow deep inside her well up to the surface as it shattered her heart into a million pieces. They clung to each other for what must have been a very long time, and by the time Frankie felt herself regaining control, she could feel Jackson’s mother stroking her hair much like her own mother did.

“You really love him,” Mrs. J stated in a warm, albeit wavering, motherly tone. “I can tell by how deeply you felt just now. Those weren’t petty teenage girl tears.”

“I do,” Frankie whimpered, taking some of the tissues for herself. “I do love him. Both of...him.”

“And in such a short amount of time,” Sydney mused, shaking her head. “Three months or so, right?”

“I don’t think it just happened when we became official,” Frankie went on. “I-I’ve always cared about him, wanted to be there for him, help him no matter what it took. And Jackson and Holt have made me so happy in return, and feel so special in a way no other guy has ever done to me before.”

“You know ever since he met you, if I even mentioned your name, Jackson would blush bright red,” Sydney reminisced, and Frankie half-giggled, half-hiccuped. “From that first day, he had his heart set on you, and I couldn’t have been happier just from the way you've made him feel.” She stopped as if a thought had just occurred to her and she got up from the couch, “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” Frankie watched her leave around the corner, her footsteps echoing further down the hall to where she knew Jackson’s room was. A few minutes later she reappeared holding a small box, giftwrapped in red with an emerald green ribbon.

“What’s this?” Frankie asked hesitantly. By the square shape of the box, the heftiness that its contents contained another protective case, she had an idea of what it could have been. But how had--?

“Jackson...bought it for you the day before everything fell apart,” Sydney explained. “He had me help pay for the rest of it.” Frankie bit her lip hard as she tore the paper off the box, took the case out of the box, and with a shaking hand opened the case. Of course it was. Of course it was--

“The necklace,” Frankie nodded, pressing a hand to her mouth. “The one Holt was trying to save up to get me.” The one that started everything because she had been ogling it like a silly schoolgirl. The same diamond-studded choker, the silver lightning bolt pendant that still, as Frankie turned the charm around, spelled out the words _“You’ve pierced my heart”_ in tiny cursive letters. A small card rested underneath it, and Frankie let out a sob as she read it: _You’ve lit up our unlives by just being you. We love you so much. Love JJ and HH._

“It’s from both of them,” Frankie barely managed to whisper.

“If there’s one thing they’ve been able to agree on,” Sydney rested a hand on her shoulder as Frankie tremblingly lifted the necklace from the case, “it’s how much they care about you.” Frankie clipped the necklace around her neck, where it rested just below her neck stitches and bolts. It couldn’t have been a better fit.

“It’s from one person, not two separate guys,” Frankie glanced down at the charm, holding it between her thumb and index finger. “That’s the best gift they could have ever given me.”

And all of a sudden, Frankie wasn’t sad anymore. She was mad. One hundred percent ticked off. She didn't cry again, but wanted to scream or fling something across the room like Mrs. J had. She had never _ever_ felt such rage before, not even towards Holt when he lied to her. Because now she was angry at something much bigger than herself or her boyfriend. She was angry at fate. The law. The future she now had to face without him in it. The sentence he didn’t deserve that would be enacted early the next day. _Christmas Day._ What kind of world had Frankie been thrust into that could do so many ghastly things?!

“We had talked that day,” Sydney was still speaking, but Frankie was only half-listening over the ringing in her ears, the crackling of the stirred electrical current that flowed within her, “about what we would do to solve this. I knew the best thing was to move again, get as far away from here as we possibly could.”

Frankie’s head snapped up, “Get...get away?”

“Jackson didn’t want to, he said he couldn’t bear to leave you behind--”

The wheels were turning again, loosened from the restraint of dejection, the belief that there was no other way to prevent this awful death sentence from happening. But there _was_ , and Mrs. J had just said it.

“We’d change our names, create whole new identities, move to the furthest place from Salem that we could--”

It was so obvious Frankie couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before. It was perfect, the absolute _perfect_ solution. She just needed to be able to pull it off. She couldn’t do it alone, that was for sure.

“It would have just been a matter of concealing ourselves. Dracula has connections to make it happen, he’s had to countless times for other monsters--”

Bingo.

“Mrs. J, I’m sorry but I have to go,” Frankie said in haste, leaping up from the couch and bounding to the door.

“Frankie?” Sydney asked concernedly, following her to the door. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Frankie said as she wrenched the door open. “I’ll be back to see you tomorrow. It’ll be okay. Believe me, it’s going to be okay.”

“What on earth are you--?”

“ _Trust_ me,” Frankie emphasized, flinging her scarf around her neck, feeling the necklace charm nestling itself effortlessly into her collarbone. “I’ll come by tomorrow.” And without another word, she rushed outside across the snowy grass to the driveway where her car was parked. She had already jabbed her thumb against Draculaura’s contact in her iCoffin by the time she reached the driver’s seat and started the engine up.

“Hello?” said the high-pitched voice on the other end.

“I need your help.”

“Frankie? Is everything alright?”

“Listen Draculaura, I need you to do something for me. And I need you to do it _fast._ ”

 


	5. Chapter 5

“Y’know, most people spend Christmas Eve with their families and close friends, sitting around a fire drinking hot cocoa. I’m spending mine bustin’ my best ghoulfriend’s boyfriend outta prison.”

“I’ll drop you off right here if you want out, Clawdeen!” Clawd shouted from the driver’s seat as he and and an overstuffed truck full of teenaged monsters sped down the road towards the Salem prison by the light of a silvery half moon glinting against the snow-covered roadsides.

“Can’t you go any faster?” Cleo complained loudly, groaning as she tried to shift in her seat sandwiched between Deuce and Frankie.

“There’s a sheet of black ice on every main road, so yeah, I’m going as fast as I can without getting us _killed_ ,” Clawd shot at her into the rearview mirror, his warm, forceful wolf breath fogging up the glass. He whipped his head towards Draculaura in the passenger seat beside him, “Time check.”

“10:30!” the vampire announced, holding up her phone clock so everyone in the back could see. “The train leaves at 12:10, we officially have an hour and a half!”

“More like an hour twenty, the train station’s at least ten or fifteen minutes from the prison!” Deuce yelled towards the front, and Clawd swore under his breath as he applied more pressure to the accelerator.

“Oh my ghoul, why didn’t we leave earlier?!” Clawdeen howled to the car roof.

“Because someone just _had_ to finish shaving her legs!” Clawd snapped at her.

“And then _someone_ had to wait for his truck to warm up!” his sister shot back.

“Would you all stop shouting, I can’t think straight!” Frankie finally exploded, pressing at her temples with her black gloved hands that matched the full black body ensemble she had thrown together into a very stylish stealth outfit. Not that she really cared how she looked right now, the matter at hand was at the forefront and center of her mind. Getting into the prison, getting Jackson out, getting him on that train that would whisk him away, and doing it all as quickly as possible. It was risky, it was borderline impossible, and she didn’t even want to think about what would happen if any of them got caught. She wouldn’t be able to unlive with herself, that’s what, because it would be all her fault if they did. But there was no way that was going to happen, she had this planned out perfectly. It had to succeed.

“Deuce move over, you’re crushing the amulet,” Cleo grunted, yanking a woven bag with a scarab beetle clasp out from under her boyfriend. Opening it up, she pulled out what looked like a small golden scepter with a large sapphire at the top and showed Frankie the matching sapphire ring that complimented it.

“Cleo, are you _sure_ this spell is going to work?” Frankie asked firmly, looking her friend straight in the eye almost confrontationally.

“Of course it is,” Cleo trilled with a sophisticated air.

“‘Cause they usually kinda _don’t_ ,” Clawdeen pointed out seated on Frankie’s other side.

“Only once or twice...or…”

“Cleo, I don’t have a Plan B if this goes wrong!” Frankie exclaimed shrilly, latching onto her arm. “Promise me it’s going to work!”

“I promise it will!” Cleo yelled back sincerely, yanking her arm from Frankie’s grip and brushing it off as if she had been dirty. “My _Ra_ , Frankie, since when have you become so testy?”

“Since I became one very ticked off girlfriend,” Frankie muttered through gritted teeth, sparks flying from her bolts as Cleo and Clawdeen exchanged a look that seemed half alarmed and half impressed.

“Don’t sweat it Frankie, we’ll get him out of there,” Deuce said confidently. “This amulet was specifically given to Cleo way back in the day. She’s got a better connection to it than anything of her dad’s.”

“Right, what he said,” Cleo smiled, snuggling up to Deuce’s muscled arm.

“Quiet down back there you guys, we’re gonna pull up soon!” Clawd said in a stage whisper as he rounded the corner.

“Not too close!” Frankie hissed back as the wheels rolled up on the gravel road. “None of the security guards can see the truck, it’ll ruin everything.”

“Gotcha,” Clawd replied, swerving a bit to park at the edge of the forest behind some very large trees. “Okay, so Clawdeen and I will stay in the woods and divert the outdoor guards and dogs away. Draculaura’s gonna be up on the roof to distract them from above.”

“Got it,” Draculaura gave a curt nod, her normally sweet little face hardened into mission mode. “There should be plenty of creatures in those trees.”

“Once you give the all clear, then Cleo, Deuce and I will sneak inside through the back,” Frankie went on explaining the overview. “What about the security system inside the prison?”

“Ghoulia’s got it covered wirelessly from her house, it’s not far from here,” Cleo answered. “She’s hacked into it with her laptop already and will be cued by me to switch it off. I have her on speed dial in case we need to reach her, and she’s been told to text ‘ALERT’ if she sees someone coming through the security cameras.”

“Even she can’t have her eyes everywhere, we’re just going to have to take our chances when we get inside,” Frankie said, unhooking her seat belt as Deuce and Clawd opened their car doors. “Remember, keep quiet, only talk if you absolutely have to and...well...I owe you all big time for this.” She reached for her neck and fingered the lightning bolt pendant charm fondly for a moment, then set her face determinedly. “Let’s do it.”

“Be careful,” Clawd kissed Draculaura on top of her head as they hugged tightly.

“They won’t even see me,” she assured him, snuggling into his embrace for a moment before breaking away to follow Frankie, Cleo and Deuce up the snowy lawn to hide behind some bushes just beyond the prison gates.

“Dude, that’s a lotta guards,” Deuce breathed as the grey concrete building came into view, surrounded on all sides by uniformed policemen.

“And that’s just out here,” Cleo’s voice quivered. “Imagine what we might run into once we get inside.”

“We won’t run into anything,” Frankie said in a low voice, the one that everyone there knew as her _“I have a plan, don’t question me”_ tone.

“How are you so sure of yourself?” Draculaura squeaked.

“Because this has to happen,” Frankie replied bluntly. “This plan has to work and I have to get Jackson away from here before the unthinkable happens.” She literally could not imagine a world in which this plan failed, it made her want to vomit.

“Do you hear that?!” called a voice from the line of guards, and the four of them ducked further behind the bushes as the flashlights came out. Two loud wolf howls came from the woods, stirring up the guard dogs beside the policemen. “Sounds like it’s coming from out there!”

“Go, that’s your cue!” Cleo urged Draculaura, who rushed along the gate to a shadowed corner of the building. As fast as her short limbs would carry her, the petite vampire scaled the fence and landed on the flat roof before disappearing out of sight.

 _“Whoa!”_ several guards exclaimed at once as their dog leashes launched forward, the hounds sprinting off past the now open gate and into the woods where Clawd and Clawdeen were hiding. But the werewolves had cleverly stationed themselves on complete opposite ends of the forest and kept moving extremely fast. There was no way any of them would catch up.

“That takes care of half of them,” Deuce nodded, still glancing warily at the other half of guards that remained. “What exactly is Draculaura gonna do?”

“Watch,” Cleo put a finger to her lips and pointed up to the roof where Draculaura’s silhouette could just barely be made out. Closing her eyes, Draculaura pressed her fingers to her temples as she concentrated very hard on something, her fangs digging into her lower lip. Within moments, a faraway rustling noise grew louder and louder, snow flying from the tree branches as fluttering shapes burst from their trunks. Dozens, almost hundreds of bats hurtled towards the prison at an incredible speed, swooping right over where they crouched in the shrubs before circling the building. The cries of the remaining guards, both on the ground and the roof, confirmed their distraction was a success and their path was now cleared.

“Phase One, complete,” Frankie exhaled slowly, watching the guards run off in different directions trying to escape the bats.

“Ghoulia, _now_ ,” Cleo whispered into her phone, and in a snap the red lights dotting the outside walls turned off. They were in.

“We need to locate the solitary confinement chamber,” Frankie hissed over her shoulder as the trio sprinted towards the side door, the only one concealed by the darkness. Pointing her finger at the security card key lock, a single zap of electricity rendered it useless and she pushed the door open carefully.

“Ghoulia’s found it on the prison building floor plan, I’ll tell you which way to go,” Cleo whispered back. For the next several minutes barely a word passed between them, except for the occasional, “Right, Left, Straight,” and “What is this, a maze?!” from Cleo. The late night shift at the Salem prison had even fewer guards inside than outside, which made things even more difficult. Every time they thought their way was clear, a flashlight would pierce through the shadows and nearly blow their cover. Even though Deuce had said he would stone someone if they needed him to, Frankie really only wanted to use his gorgon powers as an absolute last resort. If they kept turning policemen into statues along the way, it would no doubt turn into a path that would lead straight to them. As Frankie skittered around a corner to avoid a flashlight further down the hallway, Cleo’s eyes widened as she pointed to a door at end of the corridor they just entered. _“It’s there!”_

Frankie couldn’t believe it, there was not one person guarding the solitary confinement chamber. “It’s a trap,” she shook her head. “It’s a trap, it’s too easy.”

“Frankie, just go!” Deuce pushed her forward, “We’re right behind you.” Throwing all caution to the winds, Frankie ran on her tiptoes as fast as she could to the heavy door. “It’s bolted shut,” she said in a hushed voice, eyeing the lock.

“I got this. Cover your eyes, ghouls.” Frankie and Cleo instantly obeyed as Deuce removed his sunglasses, staring directly at the door lock. A bright green flash of light flickered as the door lit up around the edges before crashing to the ground, completely encased in stone.

“That was loud!” Cleo gasped, clutching Deuce’s arm as he slapped his sunglasses back on.

“They must’ve heard that, _hurry!_ ” Frankie cried, her legs flying down the hall to the lone cell at the end. She could faintly make out a figure in the darkness rising from the cot he was presumably sleeping on, aroused by the commotion. And as Frankie launched herself forward, hooking her hands around the metal bars of the cage, the person on the opposite side did the same.

“Jackson!”

 _“Frankie?!”_ Jackson spluttered in absolute disbelief. “Deuce?! What are you guys doing here?!”

“Saving you from a sentence you don’t deserve,” Frankie replied, feeling his freezing cold hands wrap around her gloved ones.

“You can’t get me out,” Jackson shook his head. “There an alarm on these bars that’ll trigger the sheriff’s alert if you open them or break them down.”

“We won’t have to,” Cleo said hastily, yanking the sapphire scepter out of her bag and thrusting the ring into Frankie’s hands. “Take off your gloves and put this on, it needs to make contact with your skin. Both of you step back from the bars.”

“What are you doing?” Jackson asked, glancing between the two ghouls alarmedly.

“This amulet will transport Frankie inside the cell, then transport both of you back out,” Cleo explained as Frankie placed the large gaudy sapphire ring on her mint green finger. “Remember Frankie, you need to be making physical contact with Jackson if I’m ever to transport the both of you together.”

“Oh don’t worry,” Frankie said, her eyes never leaving Jackson’s face, a smile spreading on her lips. “I will be.” Raising the scepter, Cleo muttered some words under her breath in Ancient Egyptian that caused the duo of sapphires to glow brightly. In a wink, Frankie felt as if she were being lurched forward at lightning fast speed, until her feet hit the floor again. Only now, Cleo and Deuce were standing on the opposite side of the cell bars. And as Frankie whipped her head to the right, she saw Jackson right beside her with not one obstruction separating them.

And within a heartbeat, they were in each other’s arms, clutching so tightly as if to make sure neither of them were dreaming. Even under the best of these circumstances, Frankie never thought she would be able to lose herself in Jackson’s embrace once more, and after tonight it would be a long time before she could do it again, if ever. She had fallen so deep that she didn’t even notice Cleo had winked them back out of the cell again.

“Let’s go, we’re out of time,” Deuce urged them, hearing distant voices shouting incoherently, and Frankie and Jackson regretfully wrenched themselves apart. “Good to have you back, dude,” he grinned at Jackson as they clapped each other on the back. As the four of them raced back to the doorway where the heavy door had fallen, they could see flashlights waving wildly along the walls.

“They’re coming!” Cleo hissed, holding up her buzzing phone where her glowing screen flashed Ghoulia’s text message “ALERT.” Frankie’s eyes darted around frantically as she heard a chorus of three or four voices coming around the corner they had just come from. To the right were two sets of stairs, one leading up and the other leading down.

“Split up, we’ll be harder to track down that way,” Frankie concluded hastily, “You two go up, Jackson and I will go down.”

“Are you sure?” Deuce asked, his eyebrows furrowing anxiously.

“Frankie, what if you can’t find a way outside down there?” Cleo fretted, her hands pressed to her face.

“We’ll find a way out, I promise,” Frankie assured them. “Go get Draculaura from the roof and climb down the gate. Find Clawd and Clawdeen and get the truck ready, we’ll meet you there as fast as we can.”

“But Frankie--!” Deuce tried to interject again.

“Do it, I can’t have you all getting caught because of me,” Jackson hissed firmly, grabbing Frankie's hand and pulling her towards the descending stairs. As the figures rounded the corner, Deuce and Cleo just barely made it out of sight up the other staircase. As Frankie and Jackson reached the landing on the bottom floor, they heard the cops that were chasing them stampede into the now deserted solitary confinement chamber, shouting about what must have been the fact that Jackson was missing.

“So, _will_ we find a way out?” Jackson asked, holding Frankie’s hand tighter as he watched her breathe rapidly through her mouth, just barely making out her worry-lined face in the darkness.

“I have no idea,” her whisper wavered, and they both jumped as they heard the footsteps start again, moving all across the floor above them. Getting away from the stairs, they dashed across the open, deserted floor space of the prison basement looking for any sort of escape. Along the cement block walls just below the ceiling were several windows leading outside. Glancing around, Frankie’s bolts sparked as she spotted one cracked open slightly to let in some air. “Up there!” she exclaimed, pointing excitedly.

“How do we get up there?” Jackson asked. “There’s nothing to climb on.”

“Oh c’mon, there has to be some--” But as Frankie looked this way and that, she realized he was right. There was nothing, no tables or chairs or furniture of any kind. The basement must have just been refurbished or something because it was completely vacant. Frankie felt her heart drop into her stomach. This had just gotten a lot harder.

“Taking our heights into account,” Jackson peered up at the window, adjusting his glasses as if he were calculating the distance up the wall, “if one of us stands on the other’s shoulders, they should be able to _just_ reach the window sill and hoist themselves up.”

“Then how will the other one get up there?” Frankie asked slowly. As soon as Jackson tore his eyes away from the window to look at her, his mouth opening hesitantly, she already knew the answer.

“They won’t,” he said grimly, shaking his head. Frankie stared up at the window, then at the ceiling where the cops had the area above them surrounded, then back into Jackson’s fearful blue eyes. They were literally cornered, and as far as Frankie was concerned, there was only one way to solve this. Leaning forward, she grabbed Jackson by the front of his shirt and kissed him fiercely on the lips.

“Go,” she ordered him. “Get on my shoulders, now.”

“What? No!”

“Jackson, I did this for you and I won’t let it all be for nothing,” Frankie exhaled in one breath, holding him by the wrists desperately. “Just get up there and get out of here.”

“What about you?!”

“Don’t worry about me, it’s you they want.”

“Frankie no, you don’t get it,” Jackson grasped her wrists just as tightly. “As far as they’re concerned, you're just another monster. Not just that, but a monster who helped a fugitive escape. They’ll do whatever needs to be done to ‘take care’ of you, and they won’t show restraint just because you’re a girl.”

“It can’t be worse than what they were going to do to you!” Frankie exclaimed.

“Care to wager on that?’ snarled a voice from the shadows, and the two of them leapt a foot in the air, clutching at each other protectively. Stepping into the moonlight shining down from the basement windows was the sheriff, for once not smiling smugly but bearing down on them both furiously.

“How did you--?”

“I will give you some credit, girlie, you _almost_ got away with it,” he let out a chuckle. “Someone took out the alarm system and cameras, sure, but they didn’t take the security cam app into account.” Frankie’s eyes widened as he held up his smartphone before flicking it off. “Your little accomplices managed to escape, but I’ll let that slide. I’ve got everything I need _right here_ , and all because you just couldn’t leave well enough alone. You just couldn’t accept what fate dealt you today in court.”

“I couldn’t accept it because it’s _wrong_ ,” Frankie snapped. “I’ll never understand how people of the law could just write off a teenage boy’s life like it was nothing.”

“Oh you thought that was the judge’s decision?” the sheriff was grinning now, mocking her almost pityingly. “Man, and I actually took you for intelligent! You could break into the city prison no problem but you were too naive to recognize a rigged court conviction when you saw one?”

“A--a rigged--” Frankie’s jaw hung open as hot bubbling anger rose up from deep inside her, filling her chest until it exploded from her throat. _“You did this!”_

“Did you really think I was going to let a Salem Justice of the Peace, not to mention a courtroom full of grown adults, be swayed by the words of a lovesick fifteen-year-old girl?!” the sheriff shouted back, advancing towards them. “I have proof that he’s dangerous, and no matter how you slice it the blood will always be on his hands. Monsters like that need to be dealt with.”

“Yes,” Frankie agreed. “A lifetime in prison would have been acceptable. But not killing him. It won’t serve as a warning to us, it'll only make us angrier. The more of us you convict, the less we’ll be willing to live in peace with you. Don’t make us believe normies aren’t trustworthy.”

“Whoa whoa, are you threatening me?” No trace of mockery or laughter was in the sheriff’s dark eyes now. “‘Cause the last time I checked, _you two_ are the ones who are trapped like rats.” He clapped his hands together in satisfaction, glancing from one to the other as if trying to choose which piece of cake to eat. “I just don’t know which one of you to punish first, it’s so hard. The murderer or the troublemaker?”

“You can have me if you promise to let her go.” The words were out of Jackson’s mouth before Frankie could stop him, just the way he planned it. Frankie gasped at him in horror, but Jackson had already released her hand and stepped towards the sheriff.

“Fine,” the sheriff grabbed him by the arms and twisted them roughly around his back. “Why wait ‘til tomorrow? We’ll do this now.”

 _“No!”_ Frankie screamed in realization, watching dumbstruck as Jackson was shoved around the corner where another heavy door awaited them. As the sheriff kicked it open, they found themselves in an isolated chamber that contained an ancient chair Frankie had only ever seen in the movies. Loosely coiled wires curled from the top of the chair to the boxed generator beside it, operated by a giant red switch, and Jackson sucked in his breath.

“What do you say, should we get it over with quickly?” the sheriff asked casually, pushing Jackson down into the chair, clamping his arms down with the metal cuffs that materialized from the chair’s arms. “Or should we draw the light show out for your little girlfriend?”

 _Light show._ Frankie stared at the chair her boyfriend was strapped to, then the generator as it hit her like a ton of bricks. Jackson and Holt had been sentenced to the _electric chair._ In a flash, she was between the generator and the chair, grabbing hold of the wires with one hand.

“What are you doing?!” the sheriff roared, his hand at the switch ready to bring it down. Frankie breathed heavily as she stared him down, her finger poised directly over her right neck bolt. She hadn't wanted it to come to this, but he'd left her no choice.

“Let him go,” she said hoarsely, her hand clamped tighter over the wires, feeling them vibrate in her grip.

“Or what?” the sheriff laughed. “I don’t know what you think you’re gonna do, this chair holds up to two thousand volts. Even if you disable the generator, you’ll be killed in the process.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Frankie cut him off. “My body runs on two _hundred thousand_ volts of electricity. That chair’s enough to kill Jackson, any normie and even most monsters, but not me.”

“I don’t believe you, you little liar--”

“It’s true,” Frankie stated louder, her index finger over her neck bolt trembling slightly. “Now stop this or I’ll blow it up and the chair will be useless.” The sheriff let out what sounded like an inhuman growl as he grabbed her wrist holding the wires, catching her by surprise so her grip loosened, and yanked her roughly aside until she fell to the floor.

“Frankie!” Jackson shouted, but it was too late. The sheriff had already grabbed the switch and plunged it downward. And in that split second it took for the generator to kick into gear, a hand came out of nowhere and hit the switch to unclamp Jackson’s arms. Frankie’s disembodied hand, to be exact, which she had torn from her wrist and flung across the room in a final desperate attempt.

“Jackson, move!” Frankie shrieked, and Jackson leapt from the chair just before it began to convulse and glow from the electricity coursing through it. Getting up from the ground, she flung herself towards the generator, throwing her handless arm against it while pressing her index finger against her bolt. Just as she’d said, her high voltage threw the entire circulation out of balance. Waves of electrical lightning filled the air, zapping anything that made contact with the generator, including the sheriff whose entire arm was electrocuted and was blasted backwards where he crashed against the cement wall.

“Are you okay?” Jackson asked once the waves receded and crawled over to where Frankie had fallen, clutching her forehead as if she had a headache.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” Frankie panted, pushing herself up with her elbows and brushing her hair out of her face. She smiled energetically, having just absorbed another two thousand volts to her system. “Never better! Told you it wouldn’t kill me.”

“You gotta stop saving my life so often, I haven’t had a chance to return the favor,” Jackson laughed lightly. He picked up her severed hand from the floor and kissed it gently before giving it back to its owner.

“Oh my ghoul!” Frankie cried out, glancing over at where the sheriff had fallen as Jackson helped her up from the floor. “He’s not--!”

“No, he’s just out cold,” Jackson shook his head. “Though that much voltage might mess with his brain a bit.” As his eyes trailed to the far left corner of the room, he gasped lightly. “Frankie, a back door!” Sure enough, a wooden door leading outside stood easily unlockable from the inside.

“Hurry, we’re running out of time!” Frankie cried as they sprinted through the door and out into the chilly night air, her iCoffin clock gleaming with the digits 11:40.

“Time for what?!” Jackson asked as he rushed to keep up with her, making their way towards the woods where the barking guard dogs had retreated so deep into the trees that they could barely be heard.

“Draculaura will explain it all in a--” She almost screamed as headlights appeared suddenly, and she shoved Jackson behind a bush as they sped up closer. The wheels squealed as they swung around, not from a cop car but from Clawd’s monster truck.

“Get in!” the alpha wolf shouted, and the couple dove into the backseat once Deuce opened the door for them, slamming it shut as Clawd sped up the road away from the Salem prison. A great cheer rose up from the gang, the Wolfs howling their success loudly as everyone took turns hugging Jackson, alive and safe right beside them, holding Frankie in his lap in the cramped rear of the truck.

“I’ve never been so scared in my unlife!’ Draculaura breathed, clutching where her dead heart would be in her chest.

“Really?” Clawdeen raised her eyebrow from the front passenger seat. “1600 years and _this_ was the scariest thing that’s ever happened to you?”

“Well okay, that _might_ be an exaggeration,” the vampire giggled before she reached into her purse and pulled out a sheet of folded paper. “Jackson, my father wrote down your instructions once you get off the train tomorrow morning. Read them over, they must be done precisely in that order, he’ll have people waiting for you--”

“Wait, what train?” Jackson asked, completely bewildered. “What instructions? What are you guys talking about?” He looked at Frankie in his lap, her hands folded around his neck as their gazes met mere inches apart. “Frankie, why did you break me out?”

“To get away,” Frankie replied. “Get out of Salem and never come back. At least not for a very long time. It’s the only way to keep you alive.”

“We’re running away?” Jackson brightened up a bit, holding Frankie closer around the waist eagerly as if excited by the prospect of this adventure with her. Frankie’s eyes grew sad as she shook her head.

“Not ‘we’. Just you.” Her heart broke as she watched his face fall, and she buried her head in the crook of his neck. “I can’t. If we go together it’ll be easier for them to track you down, even if we change our names.” She brought her hand up to stroke his cheek as he lowered his head, nestling it beside hers. “I’m sorry,” her voice tightened as she tried not to cry, “but it has to be this way.” Normally she would have felt very awkward having such an intimate moment with Jackson crammed in a truck with five of their friends, but they didn’t have much of a choice in the matter right now. Thankfully the others seemed to respect the privacy they wanted and didn’t say a word, other than Draculaura who was attempting to stifle her sobs as Cleo and Clawdeen each brushed a solitary tear from their cheeks.

No one seemed to want to break the silence during the drive to the Salem train station, as if no one really knew how to feel at that moment. It was triumphant in that Jackson was free, but mournful in that his freedom meant he would have to leave the life he knew behind, and everyone in it. He and Frankie silently read over Dracula’s itinerary as they held each other close in the little time they had left together. It was a huge sacrifice for both of them to make, but Frankie believed with all her heart that it was worth it. Somehow, someday a long time from now, it would be worth it to let him go tonight.

“Hey, it’s midnight,” Clawd announced, glancing at his clock radio as he pulled into the train station drop off lot. “Merry Christmas, you guys.” There were quiet murmurs of season’s greetings all around as they exited the car, friends exchanging hugs, couples exchanging kisses. Draculaura fished out a black hooded sweater and tossed it to Jackson as they heard the train roll along the tracks, coming to a stop. As he put it on with the hood nearly covering his face, she also gave him a pair of earplugs. “In case there’s music on the train,” Draculaura explained.

“Thanks,” Jackson hugged her gratefully. “Thanks all of you, I...I pretty much owe you all my life now I guess.”

“You don’t owe us a thing, dude,” Deuce said as he gripped Jackson in a fierce hug. “Just stay safe and--and good luck.” Jackson got one final emotional goodbye hug from everyone before they went back to the truck, leaving him alone on the platform with Frankie. For a moment they just stared without a word, losing themselves in each other’s eyes until Frankie moved forward first and they locked themselves in a passionate embrace, dampening each other’s shoulders in silent tears.

“Don’t let go,” Jackson whispered, and Frankie sniffled as she pulled back, pressing her forehead against his.

“I have to,” she said tearfully. How was this nearly just as hard and painful as several hours ago when she had believed he was going to die? But at least now she was able to give him a proper farewell. “Here, look,” she said as she remembered something, and pulled the lightning bolt choker out from under her black turtleneck.

“You got it,” Jackson said with a surprised laugh. “Did my mom--?”

“Yeah,” Frankie nodded through her tears. “I can’t believe it survived me taking out that generator back there.”

“It’s made from the most conductive metal in the world,” Jackson said. “Monster jewelers sure know what they’re up against. You can spark all you want and it won’t melt.” Silence for a few moments, then, “Frankie? We’re not...we’re not breaking up, are we?”

“I don’t know,” Frankie responded, cocking her head to the side curiously. “Is this the last time we’re ever going to see each other?”

“No,” Jackson answered without a moment of hesitation, shaking his head vigorously. “As soon as I know I’m safe, new identity and everything, I’ll find a way to contact you. You’ll know it’s me, I promise.”

“And I promise,” Frankie said, pulling him closer, “that as soon as I graduate, I’ll come and find you. It’s a long way from now, but...I think if I’ve learned anything from all of this, it’s that I’m in this with you for the long run.”

“Me too,” Jackson breathed, letting his lips meet hers softly as the train whistle blew warningly. “I gotta go. I love you, Frankie Stein. I...I always will.”

“I know,” Frankie tasted his lips once more. “I love both of you, too. It’s not ‘goodbye,’ it’s--it’s ‘see you later.’”

“Okay then,” Jackson smiled. “See you later.” And at long last, he left her arms, letting his hand trail away from hers as he walked briskly down the platform and hopped on board the last train car. Frankie simply stood and watched as the train lurched forward down the tracks, blowing it a kiss as it rounded the corner and out of sight. As happy as she was that her plan had succeeded just as she’d hoped it would, that Jackson would be far away from harm now, she still walked back to Clawd’s truck with tears pouring down her face. Because in order for him to be far away from harm, he had to be far away from her.

“It’s done now, Frankie,” Cleo soothed as she and the other ghouls consoled her in the backseat. “It’s all over. This will all wash away with the sands of time, and one day no one will remember this even happened. And on that day, it will be safe for both of you to be reunited.”

“You’re right,” Frankie said after a deep breath, fingering the necklace again. “We had no choice. It had to be done this way. And it worked out, and...and I’m glad. I’m glad he’s safe now, even though he can’t be with me.” She looked around at the ghouls as her face broke into a wide smile, and she drew them all into a very close group hug. “I did what was best for him, and that’s all that should matter in the end.”

 

~

The path back to some semblance of normalcy was a rickety one, particularly in the first couple of weeks following the Christmas Eve they'd sprung Jackson out. Frankie was more than half convinced that the Salem sheriff was going to bust down her front door at any moment to take her and her parents in for questioning or place them under arrest. But as the days and weeks came and gone, it never happened. From what she and the ghouls gathered from the spotty information Spectra had dug up, as far as the Salem police knew, their monster prisoner had simply broken out and was on the run, with no idea how he had done it. Frankie felt almost light-headed with relief when she was told this, because it meant Jackson had been right and the sheriff’s memory of that night had been wiped from his mind when Frankie electrocuted him. She didn’t even need to worry that the cops would someday find him, because if he had followed Dracula’s instructions and met up with his men as planned, Jackson Jekyll and Holt Hyde didn’t exist anymore according to official identification.

If only Frankie had gotten off completely scot-free like that. Unfortunately, Sydney Jekyll had called up Viveka Stein after Frankie had left her house in haste, concerned about Frankie’s sudden departure and worried that she might do something drastic, which of course she had. So in addition to the gifts waiting for her under the tree, Frankie’s howliday gift from her parents was the decision to ground her until Valentine’s Day for her rash attempt at taking matters into her own hands. But even so, they couldn’t help expressing their delight that their daughter’s boyfriend was no longer on death row. Sydney had visited the Steins not long after that and announced that while she appreciated their offer to look after her, she truly felt that it was time for her to leave Salem and move on, and to be safe she, too, would hide her identity. She later told Frankie in private that she hoped somehow she could find her son along the way, to which Frankie promised she would pass along any and all information about his whereabouts to her once he made contact.

It was miraculous, but what Cleo had said to Frankie that night after they left the train station turned out to be true. Within a few months, it was as if nothing had happened. The monster community was no longer on red alert, Abbey and those raised abroad were allowed to stay, and the normie authorities seemed to be ignoring them, or at least keeping themselves at a distance. However, the few times Frankie had seen the sheriff when she went into the normie side of town, he had given her a very cold stare, narrowing his eyes at her as if to say _“I’m watching you.”_ She never gave herself away and had always feigned innocence, but she knew she was going to have to be very careful in the normie district from now on. She and Jackson and Holt would have to establish some kind of code or passwords when they communicated once more, to be sure that no one could track them. And in those next few months she waited for that day, checking her emails and Fearbook account and iCoffin for any sort of message from a strangely named young man, sometimes to the point where she would lay awake in bed sadly staring up at the ceiling of the lab, trying to talk herself out of the mindset that he was never going to find her again.

Then one morning in late April, a letter arrived via snail mail addressed to her from a “Peter Ripper” in “Winnipeg, Manitoba CA.” Her brow furrowed, convinced she didn’t know anyone by that name. Suddenly her bolts sparked excitedly. She didn’t know anyone by _that name._ Tearing into the envelope, she found nothing but a small slip of paper with what looked like a phone number scrawled on it. Clutching the paper to her chest, she tore down to her laboratory room and shut the door for her own privacy. Curling herself up on the bed, she dialed the number into her iCoffin, praying she would recognize the voice on the other end.

“Hello?”

“J...Jackson?” She could practically feel the person on the other end smiling as the voice she had missed for so long greeted her back.

“Hey, Frankie Fine.”

 

~

_Two Years Later_

~

It was awfully chilly for July, but he had gotten used to it as he pulled up the woolly collar of his coat, rocking his feet back and forth on the snowy train platform. Northern Canada wasn’t exactly known for its temperatures anywhere above forty degrees fahrenheit, but it sure was known for its beauty. Turning to face the sky, he barely noticed the train pulling into the station as his eyes caught the hypnotizingly breathtaking Aurora Borealis lights from the mountains. Hardly anything about this sudden transition had been easy over the past two years, living on his own, changing parts of his appearance, adopting an entirely new identity, but finding some peace in watching the northern lights had become a sort of solace for him when he felt like giving up. But he had never given up because _she_ had never given up on him, and he owed it to her and to himself to live to the fullest. He heard the sound of a rolling suitcase behind him, and he turned to see who had left the train to approach him.

“Peter Ripper, I presume?”

Where he had changed so much, she had barely changed at all. Her facial features looked a bit more mature, perhaps altered by her father so she could look her age. Her hair was shorter, just below her shoulders, and she had a yellow streak in a few of the white strands. He smiled, knowing it was the same shade his bangs used to be before he dyed his whole head jet black. That streak, and the necklace with the lightning bolt pendant she still wore around her neck were her ways of keeping him with her after all this time. Straightening his shoulders, he nodded and held out his hand formally. “That’s me,” he said in a charming voice he’d picked up from his other half.

“Frankie Stein,” she replied cordially, shaking his hand firmly. “I’m glad to finally meet you face to face.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” He trailed off and they held the handshake steady, staring at each other just for a moment, their hearts about to burst with a torrent of emotions. And finally they both broke the stillness at once, caught in a whirlwind of kisses, laughter, tears, sweet words of affection, any possible form of expression of the words _“I’ve missed you so much.”_

“Jackson…” she whispered ever so quietly in his ear, and he felt the tears roll down his cheeks. No one had called him that in two years, and it felt so freeing to hear it again that he lifted her off the ground and spun her around in his arms. Even in what he often called this “frozen wasteland,” he had never felt more warm than he did holding her again after so long.

“Abbey told me once how beautiful these lights were,” Frankie sighed contentedly, rubbing her cheek against his stubbled one as they glanced up at the lights, cuddling as close as they could. “And all I wanted then was to be able to watch them with you someday.”

“After everything you’ve done for me,” he kissed her cheek, salty and soaked in joyful tears, “I’d be more than happy to do this for you.”

There would be time to talk later. He would tell her about his journey away from Salem, his internships with several top mad scientists, Holt’s clean record since the manslaughter case that tore them apart and his DJ career picking up again, the experiments he’d been working on in his own time, meeting up with his mother once a month in different locations, how he’d gone on with life. She would tell him about Monster High, how they won Fearleading Mashionals two years in a row, how she went to prom with Andy Beast as a friend and had a great time, how at graduation she’d cried a little when they got to the H’s and J’s and no one called their names to get their diplomas, how Headmistress Bloodgood had offered to take her under her wing as a sort of apprentice, how she also had gone on with unlife. They would talk later about how they never _ever_ wanted to be separated from each other again, and would achieve that by any means necessary. And they would talk about whether or not it was safe for him to return to Salem.

But for now, they just kissed and silently looked towards the sky.

 

_The End_

 


End file.
